The Nightstalkers
by KColl2003
Summary: When a Scooby is turned, the whole world goes to hell.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Nightstalkers

Rating: R

Story: Action\Adventure

Summary: When one of the Scoobies is turned, the world goes to hell.

Feedback: In lieu of a Faithbot yeah.

E-Mail: If I own the characters, why have Faith, Cordelia, and Kennedy escaped? Woe is me.

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (1/?)**

The West Coast '01

The sultry beauty sat beside him yawned, stretched, and scratched her head, full locks bouncing at the movement. "How long now?"

He sighed in exasperation. Despite his charge's many rough edges and trust issues he'd been surprised not to mention a little charmed by her many good qualities. Patience was however not one of them. "Young lady," he huffed, "if I have told you once, I've told you a thousand times," he ignored the teen's theatrical rolling of her ebony eyes, "his spies are everywhere, we have to be circumspect. Caution should be your by-word."

"Yeah" the brunette shook her head and snorted, expressive eyes filling with an all too familiar scorn. "Boredom should be yours."

The third member of their group snorted from his position on the back seat, deep bass voice booming out. "Girl's got you worked out English."

"K," his charge shot the back seat passenger an amused wink. He suspected the two had been 'intimate' but for reasons of propriety and jealousy didn't dwell on such thoughts. "So how about you," suddenly the brunette was shoving her head through the open window to yell obscenities at a passing biker gang heading in the opposite direction before pulling her head back in. The teen smirked at his chagrined expression. "Damn, that was fun, ain't done that since you limey bores got your hands on my cute little butt in '96."

Good lord, he blanched as he did a mental calculation. The child had been hanging out with bikers at the age of fourteen? That answered so many questions about her behaviour that he'd shied away from asking.

"Damn," the raven-haired beauty shook her head, an almost wistful expression on her face. "Those guys knew how to P-A-R-T-Y!!!!!!!!" The free-spirited teen's expression sobered. "Anyhow, I was gonna ask. Seeing as you're borin' the shit out of us with this drive, how about ya fill us in with what we're facin'?"

"As you wish," he gritted his teeth, bile raising in his throat at the bitter memory that was for a number of reasons his organisation's most shameful period. "In the summer of '96, Miss. Summers' previous Watcher, a rather fine gentleman by the name of Merrick, was slain. As a result, Rupert Giles was assigned to be Miss. Summers' Watcher." He chose to ignore his charge's faked yawn. "At first, Mr. Giles and Miss Summers formed an effective if unorthodox partnership. However Miss Summers eventually formed a wholly inappropriate relationship with an ensoulled vampire by the name of Angel."

"Boning a corpse," his charge's delightful nose wrinkled in disgust. "Fuck, even I wouldn't do that!"

"Angel, or Angelus as his unsoulled persona was known, was one of the most feared and warped vampires in existence," he ignored the interruption. "For a while though he fought at the Slayer's side-."

"Gee I wonder why?" his charge scoffed.

"Then something happened to turn Angel to Angelus."

"What?" this came from the third member of the team.

He shrugged, embarrassed by his lack of knowledge. "We don't know. At the time the Council was still receiving reports from Mr. Giles. However they were vague on certain points." He shrugged again. "I'm sure the Council would have followed them up at some point. However events overtook them. In the spring of '98, Angelus uncovered a demon of awesome power, Acathla the World Ender."

"Nice," muttered his beautiful companion.

"But the vampire was unable to decipher the rising ritual and so he kidnapped and turned Mr. Giles for the information." He sighed. "That was a grave miscalculation on par with Neville Chamberlain's-.."

"Who?" queried the confused-looking brunette.

American teens. "Never mind," he shook his head. "Suffice to say when he rose, Mr. Giles or 'Ripper' as he chose to be called took over Angelus' band of cut-throats and -."

"Whoa cowboy," the curvy brunette interrupted, a quizzical in her gypsy brown orbs. "Pull up them horses. Ripper just rose up and took over Angelus' operation? If Angelus was such a bad ass how did he manage it?"

He hid a proud smile. His charge was many things, but despite her lack of education she certainly wasn't stupid. "To be honest no-one knows how he managed it." His charge groaned, her patience at his lack of knowledge nearing its end. But I have a theory. Mr. Giles was a man of many skills – an expert in a number of medieval weapons, an archaeologist and anthropologist who'd had a number of papers published, and one of the world's finest demonologists and one of its leading Slayer historians. In addition," he smiled wanly, "Mr. Giles had a rather colourful youth and was an accomplished black arts mage and roughhouser of some note. All these many and varied talents would have made him a juicy target for all the demons wishing to re-enter the world, and a result he'd be selected by a demon of quite incredible power."

"Sweet," the teen beside him muttered.

"That's one word for it." His wry smile disappeared instantly disappeared. "At this point things get somewhat hazy-." 

"'Cause they were so clear before," the rear seat passenger scoffed.

"But what is clear that Giles immediately turned Angelus' group's aim from world-ending to world-domination. He immediately struck out at Miss Summers and her friends-."

"Wait!" the youngster beside him sounded out-raged and more than a little jealous. "This vampire-humper had friends?"

"That was the unorthodox aspect of the Giles\Summers relationship I alluded to earlier." He paused. "Apparently Summers' friends were butchered. Then Ripper took over the running of Sunnydale. In July '98, the Council sent in Miss Dana Sheridan. She was quickly dealt with. The Council sent Miss Kennedy Lucas in October of the same year with the same result. In March of '99, a US. Special forces unit led by a Major Riley Finn was massacred when they attacked Ripper's forces." He stopped, a dead weight settling on his chest. "In August '99, Ripper used his knowledge of the Council and its headquarters to have one of his minions lead an attack on the Council base, massacring over two dozen Watchers, ten potentials, and thirty ancillary staff, and burning the building to the ground." He admitted in his darker moments to having mixed thoughts about the Council's demise. While he had had lost the few people he considered his friends in the massacre, he'd also been saved from having to apply the Cruciatmen to his charge. Not only was he saved from being part of a ritual that he had grave misgivings about, he felt sure that he would not survive it if his charge did.

"This is whack." Eyes filling with alarm, the brunette beauty shook her head. "There is no way-."

"My dear," he sighed. "It is your sworn duty-."

"Fuck sworn duty!" Their car shook to the teen's heartfelt scream. "Council is gone, Jr. Watcher!"

"But vampires aren't," he riposted, fighting for calm in the face of the young woman's mounting panic-fuelled rage. Only one person could dampen her rage and she was dead.

"No way!" The brunette's lustrous locks danced as she shook her head. "Pull this shit-heap over or I'm leaping out now!" He stared incredulously at his charge. "You know I'll do it."

"Fine." He sighed. The moment the car pulled to a halt on the dusty road, the brunette was out and running.

"White folks and their drama."

He shot the passenger a venomous glare. "Stay here!" he snapped before leaping out of the car and chasing after the runaway.

He had no chance of getting even close to his quarry but fortunately the girl spun around to face him, eyes blazing. "Three Slayers! The fucker's taken down three Slayers, built an army, wiped out the Council and a Special Forces unit! How am I supposed to stop him?"

He stared at the frightened teen, unsure as how to answer a question he'd asked a thousand times since deciding they had to strike at Ripper. "You're different from all three Slayers, Miss Summers had previously proven unable to kill a comrade turned vampire. Miss Sheridan and Lucas were novices, hastily sent into battle. You are a seasoned warrior with a number of impressive kills to your credit. Kaktosis in February '99. Drago in New York in May '99. Blitz in Chicago in September '99. Peach in Georgia in November '99. Dark Death in Texas in March '00. Strong Arm in Montana in 'May '00. Fast Draw in Arizona in August '00. Cutter in Alabama in January '01. Just last month you slayed Jay-don in Nevada." He smiled reassuringly. "No Slayer in hundreds of years has killed so many notable vampires."

"Screw this." The brunette licked her cherry-red lips before stepping towards him, full hips swinging enticingly. "Two and a half years wasted Slaying is enough. Time for some fun now." The young yet old in the ways of seduction woman slowly trailed her fingers down his chest. "You're loaded, how about you buy two tickets and me and you fly to the Bahamas?" He felt his cheeks flame as the girl's hand moved southwards. "Just think about it," she husked, her voice and gaze combining to become hypnotic. "The day, me in a string bikini lying on the beach beside you, every guy hating you for being with me. And at night," the Slayer ground herself against him as she whispered in his ear, hot breath tickling his neck, "man the nights. I'd let you do anything you wanted to this body. Things those uppity English gals won't even speak about, much less do. Hell, I'd enjoy it."

It was, he inwardly admitted, a more than tempting offer. Raven tresses bounced down onto the girl's shoulders and framed her cupid-shaped face. Her ebony eyes were luminous and lips full and cherry-red. Her barely-there sleeveless black midriff top displayed several inches of taut, gym-toned belly while only just containing her full, gravity-defying bosom. The leather pants she also wore stuck to her like a second skin, making sure no observer was in any doubt to the pertness of her butt or the lithe muscularity of her legs.

Tempting except he knew desperation and fear fuelled the offer rather than love or even lust. He was not much of a man, as his dearly departed father hand never tired of telling him, but he had his principles. "No." It was an effort but he managed to pull away from the teen. "No." He shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere and neither are you." The Slayer's eyes hardened to obsidian. "You made an oath to Miss Walters."

"Bel." The Slayer shuddered. But then finding your Watcher and the nearest thing you'd ever had to a mother defiled and tortured to death was always going to have an effect. 

"As you held her head you swore," he hated to do this, but he had little choice. "You swore to be the best Slayer you could for her, to never stop hunting vampires."

The brunette fell to her knees, tears rolling down her finely-sculpted cheeks. "I'm so tired of fighting alone!"

Surprised to see the girl's mask of bravado slip, he was momentarily lost for words. Finally he found his tongue. "You have me."

"You?" Looking up, the girl shot him a scornful look. "You're not even a Watcher! You're just Bel's research assistant!"

He flinched at the reminder of his previous position before Ms. Walters' tragic demise. "Nevertheless," taking the Slayer by her elbows, he pulled her to her feet, "I'll be with you for as long as you need me."


	2. Chapter 2

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (2/?)**

Ripper beamed as the punk music of his youth blared out around him at ear-splitting levels. His beam widened as he grabbed hold of the chest-high railing and leaned over the walkway to survey his domain.

The Bronze had once been Sunnydale's premier, although to be fair also only, nightclub. Now it was the home of him and his fellow creatures of the night.

No-body was dancing to the music. Well except one sobbing cheerleader a trio of vampires were pushing from one another across a floor space covered with nails and broken glass, the blood from the unfortunate girl's bare feet slicking the ground. Most of his other followers were drinking, either alcohol or from one of the human cattle they'd selected from the pens.

One such human was spread across a table just beneath him, a trio of female vampires hungrily feeding on the weakly struggling boy. Ripper took a deep sniff, filling his nostrils with the stench of all the blood and pain, a narcotic surpassing any he'd taken in the 70s. Undead? He chuckled; he'd never been so alive.

"Sire."

"Yes Angelus?" Ripper took a perverse delight in turning to face the formerly handsome vampire who now served as his second-in-command. The undead Irishman's left eye was marred by a vertical scar running through it and his right cheek permanently singed through a combination of dark magic and flung holy water, both products of the demon's attempt to overthrow him. The scars not only served as a permanent reminder to both Angelus and the other minions about the peril of challenging him but also had turned Darla's childe into an even more vicious vampire. So he won all round.

The older demon glanced at the naked woman knelt at his feet, her arms wrapped around his knee and her vacant eyes staring up at him with puppy-like adoration, before looking at him. "The trap is set, master."

"Excellent," he nodded. "Make sure that some of the resistance escape."

His fellow demon blanched. "Sir?"

Giles idly stroked the knelt woman's mousey brown hair as he smiled at the vampire. "I enjoy watching those little rats struggle. They're so valiant, so entertaining."

Angelus stared at him for a second before nodding. "I'll relay your orders."

"See that you do." He watched the Irish vampire stride out before yanking back the head of the slave pawing at him. "My room Joy-Joy?" He smiled at the insane demon's gleeful simper. His insane childe had been turned at a far more advanced age than most of the turned females. Indeed she was more than twice the age of the majority. And yet despite her facial lines and less firm body she was his favourite.

Because she was the first, the only, childe he'd made.

It had started as any good love story did, with a girl. His childe's daughter in fact. He could gave taken the teen a dozen times in the month he'd stalked her, but the true prize, the one he really wanted was the mother and so he'd waited until they were together before attacking.

Just one look of his face had been enough to shock the two women into immobility, long enough for his minions to strike. Once both were secured, he set to work breaking the mother.

By first destroying the daughter.

It had been simple really. First he secured the two women in adjourning cells, dirty dank hovels with no light and precious little food or water for their inhabitants. During the day he would have the daughter tortured, her threats, curses, and eventual pleas all seeping through the walls to the mother to hear. And then each night he would present the mother with a severed body part and a Polaroid of her daughter's beaten body, chronicling the girl's descent into death.

After eighteen nights the girl had died. Finally it was her mother's turn. He'd given her over to six of his minions with the order no permanent physical damage be done. After 48 hours he'd ordered them to desist and turned the babbling woman who'd remained.

And now Mrs. Joyce Summers was his willing, desperate to please slave. And his final revenge on the Watcher he'd once been and the Slayer he'd once guided.

* * *

"You're sure this is a good idea?"

"Shut up Jonathan," Xander hissed as he looked around. His heart tightened as he thought about how quickly things had gone south.

It had started the night Buff had slept with Deadboy, Xander shook his head. From that point on the blonde had been operating on auto-pilot, easy prey for Angelus and his mind games.

And then the crazy bastard had turned Giles and things had gotten really bad.

The first thing the former Watcher had done was organise the town's warring vampire gangs into one cohesive force. Then he'd turned his attention to his former companions.

First to go had been Buff and Mrs. S. He'd only heard dark rumours of what had happened to them.

Unfortunately he knew all too well what had happened to Will. Snatched off the street in September '98, he'd received body parts in the post for a month together with letters detailing just what was happening to her. The process of reading them had added lines to his face and prematurely grey streaked his hair.

Maddened by grief, Oz had ignored their warnings and started to hunt Giles alone, an uneven contest that could and did only end one way. The werewolf had been caught, held until a full moon and thrown in with a pack of larger werewolves who tore him to pieces.

And that just left him, and god help him, Cordy to run what resistance there was. A new 'Scooby' gang had been dubbed 'The Nightstalkers' by uber-geek Jonathan Levinson in tribute to Blade's group of fictional vampire-fighters. Together they fought, and mostly lost, against Ripper and his forces.

And that was why they were outside The Fish Tank, Sunnydale's foremost and seediest portside bar. Despite or perhaps because of the city's ever more dangerous environment, the bar appeared to be doing brisk business. His ears pounded and the bar's dusty floor trembled to the death metal blasting out of the brightly flashing jukebox. Patrons jostled at the bar while competing at coarsely yelling orders at the over-worked bar staff. Xander's forehead wrinkled as his brain was assaulted by the half a dozen illegal narcotics pungently hovering in the dimly-lit bar's air.

Taking his last breath of moderately clean air, he stepped over the bar's threshold, his trusty companion beside him. Both of them were dressed in what Jonathan had dubbed as 'Matrix Coats', ankle-length leather overcoats ideal for concealing an armoury of weapons. And weapons were just what they needed in here.

Still, Xander comforted himself with a discreet glance around; several of his people were in place in the bar. Larry and, god help him and the world, Harmony were at the table by the front door, Owen and Scott were in the crowd fighting for attention at the bar, and Amy and Percy were at a table by the rickety back door. The rest of his team were hidden outside, ready to warn him if anything went wrong.

And of course there was Jonathan. Xander glanced at the diminutive youth by his side. Given his past 'nerdoom', Jonathan had surprised him with both his ingenuity and courage. Without him, he doubted there'd be a resistance. Although the smaller youth's hero worship could be grating at times.

Like all of them.

Xander allowed himself a wry smile as he saw his contact, a skinny Londoner even shorter than Jonathan by the name of Alf. Sitting down, he nodded towards the wispy-haired, Hitler-moustached Cockney. "What have you got for us?"

The Cockney smirked. "Question is what have you got for me?" Xander silently reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of crumpled twenties, and pushed it across the table. The informant quickly scooped and pocketed them. "Ain't got any news about the vamps." Xander glared and started to rise, intent on getting his money back. "Relax," Alf raised a palm in supplication. "I ain't ripping you off kid, I ain't that stupid." The cockney gurgled a chuckle and took a sip of his foamy beer.

"What then?" Xander snapped impatiently after a nervous glance around the bar.

Alf flashed him a grin filled with yellow-stained teeth. "The Slayer."

Xander's irritation fled to be replaced by an almost childlike eagerness. He was sure if there was a way out of this mess it had to be through the Slayer, all they had been able to manage was a holding action. "Really, do tell?"

"Vamps are scared of her, that's for sure," Alf rubbed a stubbly cheek. "The demons call her 'Beautiful Death', 'Warrior Bitch', and a whole host of other less wholesome names." Alf paused. "They say she's killed close to ten Masters, more than any Slayer in centuries."

"We already know all this," Jonathan said a second before he did. "We're not paying you for old news."

Alf grinned, clearly amused by Jonathan's outburst. "Yeah, but what you didn't know is she's headin' here." Alf paused, face growing grim. "But there's just one problem."

"What?" Xander leaned across the table, blood racing at the thought of the Slayer returning here but frightened that something or someone was going to ambush her before she got here.

The man's eyes flickered yellow in the half-light. "You won't be here to see her."


	3. Chapter 3

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (2/?)**

Time froze for a second. Then Jonathan let out a shocked half-shout, half-squeal. "Vampire!"

Xander leapt up. Snatching a hold of the table, he tipped it over just as the demon left his feet and jumped at them. The table slammed into the demon's face, spinning it off-course and dumping it to the ground. The cockney vampire snarled at him a split-second before he crashed a boot into its face.

Bone crunched under his attack. Before the stunned demon had chance to react, Xander dropped into a crouch beside it and slammed a stake through its back and into its chest. "Damn," Xander cursed as he looked around to see other vampires leaping into action, "another trap!"

He was getting real pissed with Giles, make that Ripper, playing cat and mouse with them. Rising, he sidestepped a lunging vampire and drove his knee into its crotch, doubling it up, making it easy target for a stake to the back.

A supernaturally powerful hand took hold of his collar and flung him into the air. "Ahhhh!" Xander bellowed as he crashed into the bar counter, wood splintering and back erupting in pain. Forcing himself upright, he snatched a hold of a splinter and swung at the demon.

"Oh please," the vampire contemptuously slapped away his attack before crashing a backhand into his jaw.

Blood flew out of his mouth as he was lifted from his feet and flung over the counter. Xander grunted as he landed, managing to land on his shoulder rather than his head. He was only half-way to his feet when the demon grabbed him by his shirt and flung him into the drinks cabinet. Glass cascaded on top of him as he slumped to the ground.

"Hey," he heard the front door crash open and a sexily husky voice speak, "this a private party or can anyone join in?"

* * *

Faith yawned as their car travelled through Sunnydale. She hated to admit it, but she'd been terrified at the thought of arriving in Sunnydale, imagining blood-soaked streets, spread-eagled torture victims nailed to walls, severed heads on fence posts, and fuck knows what else. What she'd instead found was a boring as hell town similar to a thousand small towns she'd visited in the last few years.

Her interest flickered into life at a similar sight. "Hey! A bar!" Faith bellowed. "Pull over! I wanna party!"

The Englishman driving the car shot her a familiarly irritated glance. "My dear, we are here on business, not to indulge your carnal desires."

Indulge your carnal desires. Jesus, Faith shook her head, the English had ways of making even sex sound boring. It was Faith's turn to shoot her companion an irritated look. If not for her natural sneakiness, she'd not have got laid in like two years.

If she hadn't made a promise to Bel, her heart caught at the thought of the severe-featured woman with the heart of gold who'd adopted and loved her like no-one had ever done, she'd have kicked Book-Boy to the kerb months ago. With her looks and talents, she could be having some serious fun.

But obligation and the memory of the only mom she'd ever had held her in place as securely as a bear caught in a steel trap.

"Whoa!" her eyes narrowed as a body crashed out of the bar's window and then exploded into dust. "Still wanna drive past?"

Book-boy didn't favour her with an answer or even a look. Instead the car tires screeched as the Brit spun the car around and headed back to the club, pulling to a halt on the kerb outside. "You two take the window, I'll go in through the door."

* * *

"Owww!" Jonathan gasped as he rolled away from his attacker's kicks and onto some broken glass from the window. Rolling back towards the vampire, he kicked out, his foot crashing into the demon's inner left knee.

The demon stumbled forwards and down onto one knee. Jonathan hurriedly pushed himself up with one hand and used the other to thrust his stake into the demon's chest. Jonathan looked around, heart sinking at the furious bedlam folding, it seemed as if practically everyone in the place was a vampire. They didn't have a chance.

And then SHE strutted into the bar and in his heart. A beauty with the face of an angel and the body of a centrefold.

And the mouth of a sailor and the brawling skill of a company of off-duty marines.

The moment the raspy-voiced beauty stepped through the door, a vampire lunged at her only to be met by a casually yet effectively flung stake to the chest. The Slayer, because that's who she had to be, burst through the exploding dust to block a left hook on her forearm while swinging a stake across her curvy body and under her parrying arm straight into her rival's chest while at the same time catching another attacker with a headbutt to the face.

The vampire's face disappeared in a visceral spray. The demon stumbled backwards, too dazed to avoid a coolly-delivered stake.

Another vampire ran at the supernatural warrior from behind. The moment the demon reached for the battling beauty she snapped off a back heel kick that caught the creature square in the chest, throwing him through the already broken window.

Another vampire launched herself out of the wild melee, her blond hair swinging as she tackled the Slayer around the waist, knocking her to the ground. The Slayer twisted in mid-air, legs wrapping around the vampire's waist as she landed on top. The stunned vampire blocked the Slayer's attempted staking but was unable to prevent her grabbing a handful of blonde ringlets and repeatedly smashing the back of her head against the unforgiving floor. The moment the blonde was too stunned to resist, the Slayer staked her.

And then the ebony-eyed lovely was up and tearing through the vampires, moving at a blur. In seconds it was all over, the remaining vampires either fled or dead.

"Damn," the brunette grinned, "it's always good to get my slay on."

Jonathan's heart dropped when an athletic-looking African-American moved up to the Slayer's side. Of course a girl like her would have a studly boyfriend. Not that she'd look at him even if she was single.

"Oh boy." Jonathan's head snapped to his left to see a bloodied and dust-covered Xander dragging himself up on the bar, a glazed look in his eyes and blood dripping down his neck. After a second their leader's eyes zeroed in on the curvy brunette, a weary smile lighting his face. "You're the Slayer right?" his friend stumbled around the counter. "I'm," Xander looked at the others, "we're the resistance, pleased to meet you."

"Yeah," the raven-haired warrior shot his friend an almost bored look, "it's been a real trip for me."

From his position Jonathan could no longer see Xander's face, but he could make out his friend's shoulders stiffening,. "Listen-."

Suddenly Xander's legs buckled under him. The Slayer instinctively leapt forward, catching him as he fell. "Damn!" the brunette looked around. "He needs help now!"

Cordelia rushed over to the duo. After shooting her boy-friend a concerned look and the Slayer a frosty one, the former cheerleader spoke. "We've got first aid stuff back at our base."

"Wicked," the Slayer nodded. "In that case you can take him-."

"We'd like to come along," commented the bespectacled man who'd also accompanied the Slayer. The Slayer shot him an angry look, the Englishman shook his head. "The last two Slayers made the mistakes of going it alone, I feel it wise to find allies."

"Allies sure, but this lot?" the Slayer sniffed.

"Hey!" the cheerleader yelled. "You're no prize, Biker Butch!"

"Ladies, please!" the guy who had to be a Watcher took his life into his own hands by stepping between the Slayer and the even more terrifying Cordelia. "This is hardly the time for this discussion. More vampires might appear at any time. Perhaps one of you could give us directions?"

"I'll give you a ride," Jonathan squeaked then reddened as he realised too late what he'd said "I mean-."

The Slayer shot him an amused look. "I know what you meant."

* * *

"There it is! There it is!"

"Yeah," Faith shot the dwarf an amused look. He'd been like this the entire journey, switching between babbling and drooling. And yet there was a sort of innocence about him that prevented her from suffering her usual irritation with such behaviour. "I see it. Cool digs." The house was a sprawling three storey mansion beside the town's biggest park.

"Indeed, and how can a group apparently made up of teens afford such a place?"

Faith noted the wariness in her Watcher's voice, but half-pint, clearly intent on impressing her, didn't. "Oh, that was Xander's idea," the kid babbled. "We went onto he FBI and Interpol's most wanted lists. Then using that information I found and hacked into the bank accounts of the world's worst drug barons and arms smugglers." Faith snorted, amused by the ballsiness of such an action. "We only take half a percent of the accounts' annual interest, but it's still more than enough to pay for this place, our bills, our food, clothes, medical supplies, weaponry, and training."

"Your training?" Faith queried, interested despite herself.

Jonathan beamed at her question. "It was Xander's idea, he's a great leader!" Faith rolled her eyes. If not for the drool when he'd first seen her, she'd figure Short-Round was gay. "This guy, Everett Blaine, he lives in town, he's like a black belt in six martial arts. He's made studying the fighting arts his life. He used to run a dojo in town until Xander bought him out for triple its worth and offered him double his annual profits to exclusively train us. Which he's done for the past two and a half years." Jonathan paused. "Xander's the best of course-."

Faith's lips quirked up in a mocking half-smile. "Of course."

The demon hunter faltered at her comment before continuing. "Soldier-Boy's memories help him. Larry and Percy are next best, they used to be on the football team."

"And you, how do you do?"

The guy seemed to shrink into his seat. After a second their guide shrugged. "I guess I do okay."

For some reason Faith felt a stab of remorse at the embarrassment that flickered across her fellow teen's face. "Hey, maybe I could show you some moves," she found herself offering.

"Yeah," the teen beamed, "that'd be great!"

"We're here," her Watcher called as he ponderously completed his parking. "Let's meet up with the rest of Jonathan's companions."

"Can hardly wait," Faith drawled.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Nightstalkers (4/?) **

****

The lounge was large, the size of her mom's crib back in Boston, with plenty of leather couches for its users to lounge on, and grilles on its probably bullet-proof windows. Its floor was covered in a cream carpet so thick and soft it was like walking on air.

"Hello, I'm Wesley Whyhdham-Pryce; this rather large gentleman is Charles Gunn, LA demon hunter, and Faith Lehane, my Slayer."

"I'm Xander Harris," a grey-streaked, line-faced man that had to be twenty years older than the rest of the resistance fighters stepped forward, a blood-drenched dressing stuck to his thick neck. Faith recognised him as the man who'd collapsed into her arms.

"Ah! Mr Harris!" Wesley looked towards her. "Faith, this is the young man who started the second Slayer line!" Faith raised an eyebrow, so he had to be about the same age as the rest of them, his life must have been wicked hard. "It's an honour to make your acquaintance. Mr Giles' diaries were most complimentary about you."

"Oh, I thought fashion victim Buffy was bad enough, but now we've got trailer trash Slayer." Faith's eyes narrowed as she heard the giggled comment and picked out its speaker, a pretty if vacant-looking blonde. There'd be time to deal with her later.

"However," she realised the Watcher was still droning on, "I understood your 'Scooby' gang was much smaller."

"It was," hearing the hurt in the resistance leader's voice, Faith suddenly understood that it was his pain that had aged him. "After he'd killed Buffy, Ripper attacked the high school through the tunnels beneath it, probably hoping to kill all those she'd known. Dozens died, but some of the survivors volunteered to join me and Cordy in fighting Ripper."

"What are the names scratched in the wall behind you?" Gunn suddenly interrupted.

The young man looked down, his eyes growing even more sorrowful. "That's our wall of remembrance – Jesse, Miss Calendar, Buffy, Kendra, everyone who's fought and fallen has their names scratched there."

Faith figured that'd be a great comfort to their corpses. "Well that's moving," her Watcher commented. Sad thing was the sap wasn't jokin', she was expecting tears any second. "But perhaps you could introduce us to your live cohorts."

"Oh right," the young man unconsciously raised his hand to the bandaged side of his neck before continuing. "Jonathan you've already met, he's our electronic whiz and gadgets guy."

Faith glanced towards the short teen. "Gadgets guy?"

The young man reddened at her attention. "I've invented some weapons to fight vampires."

"Yeah?" Faith raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't mind seeing them some time."

The boy's blush deepened. "I…I'll show you them a…any time you want."

Faith grinned. She just bet he would. "This is Cordelia," Xander continued with a look towards a striking brunette, "my girlfriend." Faith's brow furrowed, girl that hot with the sort of clothes she wore had to be slumming it with him. Either that or she was a thrill-seeker. "This is Amy Madison, our witch and research whiz," Xander's gaze moved from the Wicca to an Oriental-looking girl, "this is Joy." Finally he turned towards the group's other boys. "That's Frederick Iverson, former editor of our school paper, Michael Cjajak, he's a warlock, Devon, he used to front the biggest band in Sunnydale," like that was an accomplishment, Faith smirked, "and they're Owen, Scott, Percy, and Larry," the resistance leader finished.

"Don't forget me!" harped the blonde.

From the look on Harris' face, he'd dearly love to. "And this is Harmony."

"Honoured to meet you all," Wesley nodded.

"Yeah," Faith drawled with all the insincerity she could manage. "It's been a real highlight for me too." She cast a caustic look around. "All these resources, people, and all you seem to do is squat."

An angry mutter circulated around the room and Xander glared at her. "We're facing close to a hundred vampires here alone, four of which are amongst the world's most feared Masters. And what about you?" the young man sneered. "It's over two years since the last Slayer came here. What have you been doing? Working on your embroidery?"

"Embroidery? How about," Faith smiled sweetly, "I rip YOUR prick off and shove it up YOUR ass?"

Eyes glittering, the young man opened his mouth to retort. "Xander, why don't you tell us more about the forces you face? We already know about Ripper and Angelus, but perhaps you could inform us about the other vampires and their habits?"

"Fine," Harris tore his gaze away from her and to her Watcher. "Near as we can tell it Angelus is Ripper's no 2."

"English said Angelus was a player," Gunn interrupted. "Any tension between the two, something we could maybe work on?"

"Oh there's tension," Xander's smile was like ice. "But Ripper kicked Angelus' ass big time when he rose."

"Oh yeah," Xander's main squeeze chirped in, "Angelus used to be serious eye-candy, not any more."

"And the other Masters under Ripper's command?" Wesley asked.

"Penn, one of Angelus' childes and Mr. Trick," Faith shuddered. "Met him?" Faith nodded at Harris question.

"And what of Drusilla and Spike?" Wesley hurriedly put in, her Watcher saving her from having to answer any further questions about her past with Trick. "I understand they were working with Angelus before Ripper rose?"

"They were," Harris confirmed with a nod. "But from what we understand, Ripper couldn't stand Dru, something about her ramblings," Xander smiled wryly. "As someone who'd met Dru, I can definitely sympathise. But Ripper knew if he moved against Dru, he'd have to kill Spike too. So he sent Spike on some decoy mission," the Sunnydaler broke off to stare at a suddenly grimacing Watcher, "what?"

"The mission was the wiping out of the Council."

"Oh," Harris stared at Wesley for a long second before continuing. "Once Spike had left Sunnydale, he had Angelus and Penn kill Dru. When Spike returned, Ripper, Angelus, Penn, and Trick ambushed and killed him."

"Very cunning," Wesley sighed, worry lines forming on his forehead. "And are there any other significant notable vampires? Competition?"

"Competition?" Xander chuckled and shook his head. "A girl by the name of Sunday arrived in town with maybe half a dozen childes. She thinks she's someone, but the moment she annoys Ripper too much, he'll squash her like an ant." The young man paused. "There are two other notable vampires in Ripper's crew though. When Ripper made his move for underworld domination, Wolfram & Hart sent one of their brightest and best to negotiate a truce with him. A lady lawyer by the name of Lillah. To show he wasn't interested in sharing, Ripper turned her. She now runs the administrative side of his empire."

"Oh really?" Wesley chuckled.

"Got a plan, Wes?" Faith asked. He mightn't be worth shit in a fight, but her Watcher could plan.

"The beginnings of one," Wesley turned to Xander, "does this Lillah have any notable powers?"

"Legs to die for but last year's fashion sense," Cordelia replied.

"He meant things that were actually useful, cheerleader," Faith put in. The taller brunette eye-balled her. Faith grinned, girl had moxie.

"She's just more intelligent than most vampires," Xander hurriedly interrupted. "And then there's Ethan Rayne."

"Ethan Rayne? He's here?" Wesley gasped.

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "Seems old Ethan had a jones for power. So he came here to get some, only Ripper turned him immediately."

"And all these vamps, wanna tell us about their habits and stuff?" Bored of leaning against the door, Faith dropped into a chair opposite Harmony and winked slowly. The blonde coloured and looked away, confirming Faith's suspicions.

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "They don't hunt in town unless they're looking for someone or something specific. Ripper doesn't like the attention."

"How do they feed then?" Gunn asked.

"Ripper's out of town underlings send him 'tribute'," Xander grimaced. "Basically runaways snatched from the streets of America's major cities. Only the best mind. If Ripper isn't happy, you're dust."

"Nice," Faith couldn't prevent a shudder. If she hadn't been Called, that could have been her fate.

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "His major base is The Bronze, he has other places, but they're all heavily guarded."

"We'll need a list so we can recon." Xander's mouth opened, but Faith pre-empted him. "They won't see me." Xander shrugged. "What about the players, their likes\dislikes?"

"Your choice." Xander looked towards Jonathan. "Intel guy."

Jonathan reddened as every eye turned to him. Faith grinned, his shyness was kinda cute. "Ripper runs a tight ship, mess up once and you best change your name and run. Try and betray him and it's even worse." The youth shuddered and looked towards her. "No-one's allowed to kill a Slayer, they have to be brought to him. He likes to play with them. He also likes us, gets a kick out of our efforts. Angelus hates Ripper but hasn't got a powerbase to move against him. His tastes runs to innocents – babies, virgins, priests, that sort of thing. Penn is fanatically loyal to Angelus. He nuttier than any of them, has a thing for families. But when he gets the urge, Ripper has him leave town to do it. Trick, we understand he was a slave turned by his owner two hundred years ago," Wesley nodded, "he hates white people. Ethan's a real toady for Ripper, he likes to do magical experimentation on people. Lillah works out of an office on 17th Street, she goes for pretty girls."

"Doesn't kill them though," Amy commented. "Just disfigures them, cuts or burns their faces off, gouges out their eyes and then lets them go."

"Okay," Faith muttered, "that's sick."

"Is that it" Jonathan nodded at Wes' question. "Then I suggest we retire?"

Xander nodded. "Jonathan could you show Gunn and Faith to the guest wing." The resistance leader looked at Wes. "I think there's stuff we need to talk about."

* * *

"This is your room, Mr. Gunn and yours is next door, Faith."

"Yeah," Faith grinned at the youth, "question is though," she gently bumped the youth with her hip, "where's your room?" She slowly licked her lips. "You know, just in case I need you for anything later. A girl can get lonely."

Jonathan reddened and backed away. "Um, just down the hallway. Bye."

Faith chuckled in her throat. Damn, that was fun. "That wasn't cool." She looked up to see Gunn staring disapprovingly down at her. "We're trying to make allies here, dial it down a little. Kid seems nice, you didn't have to tease him like that."

Faith scowled up at the demon hunter. "Sleep with a guy a couple of times, he thinks he owns ya. Newsflash, no one owns me!" Faith grabbed a hold of her door handle.

"Hey," the African-American's hand dropped onto her shoulder, "don't be like that. I was just offering some advice. And," the black chuckled, "if you're feelin' lonely…"

Faith shot the man a scornful look. "I won't go short of company," she asserted. "And just for the record, three times ain't the charm, Chuck."

Faith scowled as she closed her room's door behind the protesting black. When she'd gained her powers, she'd swore she'd allow no-one, especially a man, to order her about. Didn't stop the pricks trying though.

She forced herself to calm by thinking about the resistance group. It was a helluva sitch that Wes had got her into, but at least she wouldn't have to go sneaking out to have some fun, there was some definite candidates.

Harris wasn't much to look at, life had pretty much wrecked his looks. But the guy had serious backbone. That was a wicked turn-on. Plus life had taught her that things ran easier when you had a gang's leader on side.

Devon had the sleazy rock thing going, that always got her going. Cjajak though, he was too weird even for her. Scott Hope was just a generic pretty boy, but she didn't have a problem sharing her bed with someone who was nice to look at. Percy looked like a typical meat-head jock, but she didn't pick guys for their brains. Owen looked kinda up himself, but nice enough. Larry was out, definitely a fag. Not that she held that against him, kinda hard to seeing as she swung both ways. Then there was Jonathan, Faith smiled softly, there was something sweet about the shy kid, maybe she wouldn't mind making a man out of him.

So there was plenty of variety, plenty of beds to rock. But first there was Harmony. That bitch had a lesson to learn.

* * *

"Sire."

Ripper rolled out of bed at Angelus' voice outside his bedroom, slapping his slumbering bed partner on the ass as he did so. "I'll be with you in a moment," he retorted before sliding a finger down Joy-Joy's back. "And you've been a naughty girl." Joy-Joy giggled. "Which is how I like you. Get yourself a fresh feed from the pens."

"Thank you, a yummy treat."

"Bloody right." After sliding on his dressing gown, he walked out of his room and to the vampire stood slouched against the wall. "I hope you had a damn good reason for interrupting me."

The Irish vampire stiffened at his tone. "I think so. The ambush was foiled."

"Foiled?" Ripper scowled. He'd wanted SOME of the resistance to escape, but this sounded different. "By who?"

Angelus paused, a worried look flickering across his scarred features. "The Slayer."

"The Slayer." Ripper shivered and closed his eyes in rapture. The Council had been destroyed, but the Slayer Line remained. And as long as what Watchers who survived were foolish enough to send their girls against him, he'd continue to enjoy butchering them.


	5. Chapter 5

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (5/?) **

"This better be good," Harmony seethed at the insistent knocking on the door. Everyone knew better than to bother her after lights out. A girl needed her beauty sleep.

Pulling on her knee-length robe, she hurried to the door and yanked it open. Her jaw dropped as she recognised the interloper. "You!"

The sultry Slayer smirked at her reaction. "Hey Harm, that robe looks wicked on ya. Bet it'd look even better off ya." She gasped when the supernatural warrior unfastened her robe, placed a hand on her belly, slid it round to and down her lower back, coming to a halt on her butt. "Feels wicked good." Harmony raised a hand to slap the brunette only for the other girl to easily catch her hand, other hand staying where it was. "Fiesty," the Slayer's smirk widened. "I saw the way you were looking at me even when you were talkin' shit. Tell me you don't want me?" Harmony licked her lips but couldn't deny her heart's passionate flutter. "Yeah that's what I figured." The Slayer crushed her soft lips to hers, her hot tongue working its way into Harmony's receptive mouth. The Slayer pulled away, brushed blond strands off Harmony's neck and whispered in her ear, tongue tickling her lobe. "Wanna carry this on inside?"

Harmony's legs almost unbuckled beneath her. "S…sure."

* * *

"Your team seems to be very well organised," Wesley complimented as the resistance leader led him into the kitchen. "I understand from Mr. Levinson that you have infra-red sensors and a pressure mat built into the front entrance and sprinklers filled with holy water in every corridor. Most inventive. I'd also be very interested to see the other innovations that Mr. Levinson mentioned-." 

"I'm not sure you'll be staying," Xander interrupted.

Wesley stared at the old beyond his years resistance fighter. "I beg your pardon?"

The young man stared steadily at him. "I've heard lots of stuff about your Slayer. How great a warrior she is. But also how out of control. I now know both are true."

Wesley felt moved to leap to his charge's defence. "Faith is high-spirited, but it is that very high spirit that makes her such an effective warrior."

It was as if he hadn't spoken. "To survive here, we've had to work as a team. Faith might kick ass, but she is a disruptive force. You're her Watcher, she's your responsibility."

"I am hardly her owner," Wesley retorted.

Xander shook his head. "God knows I don't want another robot, watching Kendra was almost heart-breaking. But a Watcher is meant to look after his Slayer."

"Faith is a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions." This time Wesley was moved to speak in his own defence.

"Was she when you became her Watcher?" Wesley's silence condemned him. "Looking at the way she behaves, the rumours I've heard, I'm guessing she was an abused child. Her Watcher should and could have been her second chance, the nearest thing she had to a parent." Wesley reddened as he realised that was just what Ms. Walters had been to Faith. "At the very least they should be what Giles," the younger man's breath caught for a second. "What Giles was to Buffy, a friend, a sounding board, and a shoulder to lean on." The young man paused, wisdom beyond his years in his dark eyes. "You had a chance to really help this girl, but you blew it."

Wesley's flush deepened, discomforted by the American's barbs. "Faith is a problematic-."

"She's hard work," Xander glared at him. "So you decided to give up on her, turn a blind eye to her problems."

"You've no right to judge me!" Wesley snapped, something of his father's ugly temper rearing inside him. "You have no idea about Faith and I!"

The young man appeared unaffected by his anger. "I know enough to worry just what effect she'll have on morale. Things are hard enough without importing extra trouble."

* * *

"Well that went well." Xander groaned as he wearily stumbled through his mansion's half-lit corridors, the greyness of the wallpaper only adding to his bleak mood. As usual his undiplomatic mouth had opened a can of worms, this time an almighty row between him and the Watcher. 

The hell of it was he knew he was right. From what the others had said the Slayer had slain eight vampires in roughly as many seconds. And when he'd looked into her eyes, he'd seen unshakable confidence but also the same sort of hurt betrayal he'd felt when his dad got handy. There was a great warrior there, but also someone in need of help, help he could maybe provide, but his people, his new family, had to come first.

Reaching the door to the room he shared with Cordelia, he opened it and walked into the darkened chamber. "I saw the way you looked at that floozy."

Xander groaned inwardly. He so didn't need one of those 'conversations'. "What floozy?" he affected a light tone. "There's only one floozy for me."

"Right answer." He sensed rather than saw his girl-friend's beaming smile. "Now come over here and get your reward."

Xander grinned as he hurried towards the bed, dragging his shirt over his head as he did so. Okay, so maybe his life didn't suck completely.

* * *

"That was quite a time," Faith drawled as she slid off the bed and started to pull her clothes back, eyes fixed on the glistening blonde sprawled on the bed. "I bet they heard your screams in the next street over." Faith smirked. "Bet they wondered if I was gutting or fucking you." 

"You could stay."

"Nah," Faith shook her head. "This was an one-time only deal."

"But why?" A distressed look on her face, the cheerleader sat up on the edge of the bed.

"It's simple really," Faith's face hardened. "You talked down to me like I was shit. So I figured I'd give you the ride of your life, ruin you for man and gal. And," Faith's soft laugh was filled with venom, "if your buds didn't know you swung both way, they sure as hell do now."

"You bitch!"

Faith caught Harmony's swung slap and pushed her back down onto the bed. "Yeah, I'm a bitch. You might want to remember that next time you try and come up against me, 'cause next time you'll spend a month eating through a straw." A grin on her face, Faith walked out of the former cheerleader's room, kicking the door shut behind her.

"Are you quite finished acting like a cheap trollop?"

Faith spun around to face the speaker , her good mood evaporating. "Who the hell do you think you're talkin' to?" she demanded through narrowed eyes.

The Watcher took a half-step back at her grating tone but quickly recovered. "I think I'm talking to a beautiful, brave, spirited, and intelligent young woman who unfortunately doesn't value herself anything like as much as she should." Faith stared dazedly at the Englishman. "I grow tired of putting up with your constant bed-hopping, lowering yourself to the likes of Ms. Kendall and worse for a quick thrill."

"What? You jealous you're off the invite list?" Faith was still reeling under the Watcher's first words, but managed a weak retort. "You had your chance and you blew it!"

"I'd be lucky to be chosen by you. As long as it was for the right reasons," Wesley half-smiled before sobering. "Your mother might not have wanted you. Your father might have deserted you. But the powers that be, one of the most powerful entities for good in the known universe, chose you out of millions to be its champion." The Watcher paused, allowing his momentous words to sink in. "Do you really have to make yourself feel wanted by acting like a slapper?"

Faith stared at the Englishman, bemused by his words. "I….. I ain't cut out for a nun's habit."

"A less likely candidate for nunhood would be nigh on impossible to find." Wesley chuckled. "I wouldn't expect you to become a nun, merely have enough respect to pick someone worthy of all you have to offer." Faith stared at the Englishman. "And on another matter," Wesley paused momentarily. "Also worthy of respect are our new companions. They don't have your powers or my training, and yet they stand against the same forces as we do. You might want to think about that." The Watcher turned on his heel and walked away.

* * *

Sweat broke out on Wesley's forehead as he strode away from the beautiful Bostonian. Only the certain knowledge that running wouldn't enable him to escape the sultry Slayer's wrath prevented him from picking up the pace and galloping away. He'd seen his Slayer's anger in action. Once a trio of youths had decided no meant yes and as a result, Ms. Walters and he had been forced to use their contacts to get three counts of attempted murder dropped. Every woman had a right to defend herself, but Faith's assault had been frenzied in the extreme, only sheer luck had prevented her from becoming a triple-murderer. 

Unfortunately his honour had demanded he'd act. He'd tried to defend himself against Harris' verbal attack, but the younger man's words had cut deep primarily because they were true. He had turned a blind eye to the Slayer's wild behaviour, concentrating only on her Slaying. And in doing so, he'd allowed an already damaged child to further hurt herself.

Shame caused his cheeks to flush. He only hoped his words would cause the troubled teen to re-assess her behaviour and realise her true worth. And didn't instead cause a still greater rift between the two of them.

* * *

Someone worthy of all you have to offer. 

Faith stared open-mouthed after her retreating Watcher, a slow anger building up inside her. Where did he get off talking to her like that? The rat bastard-.

Except, Faith paused in her internal rant as his words sank in. What exactly had the Englishman said? That she was beautiful? That she was smart? That she was brave? That she deserved to be happy?

Someone worthy of all you have to offer.

All her life she'd chosen sleazes and tough guys because she thought that was all she could get. Gunn was better than that, but she hadn't known that when she made her move on him.

Yeah, if she was gonna be this new Faith she needed a new type of guy, a steady instead of an one night stand, to go with it. And, she slowly smiled, she had just the guy in mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (6/?) **

Faith swallowed as she stalked down the steps to the resistance group's gym, her hands clammy as she gripped the adjacent steel railing. Faith took a breath, her nerves jangling. All she was gonna do was hit on a guy, something she'd been doing for close onto a decade with ease. All it took was a wink, a look, and a smirk.

'Cept this was a different sorta guy than usual. A more sensitive, smarter sort and she didn't have a clue how to act. Reaching the bottom of the steps she stopped at the entrance to regain her composure and looked around.

It was an extensively equipped gym, sprawling out the entire floor area of the house above. The space in front of the far wall was filled with racks containing a vast variety of modern and older weaponry. To the right was a selection of aerobics equipment – well-used stationery bikes, rowing machines, treadmills, and steppers. To the left was a substantial array of gym equipment. In addition to a long rack of dumbbells going up from five to eighty pounds, there were leg-press machines, squat racks, preacher boards, chin-up bars, bench press units, lat machines, and other pieces. The centre of the room was dominated by exercise mats on the ground and heavy bags and speed balls hanging from the ceiling. Skipping ropes, boxing gloves, and sparring mitts were neatly stacked in one corner.

The person she'd come to see was crouched in the gym's centre, working on one of the bags, his back to her. Faith smirked slightly as she noticed something that gave her an in. Stilling the butterflies fluttering her stomach, she spoke.

* * *

Sweat beaded down Jonathan's face as he thudded knee after knee into the heavy bag, hands around the bag, pulling it towards him. He preferred to train alone, self conscious about his lack of ability compared to the others. "John, you're leaning forwards on your back foot, it's taking you off balance."

Jonathan almost fell at the unexpected voice behind him. Cheeks flushed, he spun to face the intruder. "Hey."

"Hey," he noticed the brunette stunner looked almost as nervous as he felt. Which was strange because she'd seemed awful confident the previous night. After a second the smoky-eyed beauty stepped into the gym. "You said you'd show me your vampire hunting innovations."

Jonathan stared uncertainly at the east coast teen. Faith had said she was interested in seeing them the previous night, but she'd said a lot of things, not all of them nice. Reasoning that Xander would want them to keep their new ally happy at any cost, he nodded stiffly. "Sure," he turned away from the Slayer, "if you come this way-." 

"Hey," he turned at a hand on his shoulder, shocked just how soft the Slayer's touch was. He was surprised to see hurt in the brunette's expressive eyes. "I know I messed up last night. But you seem like a good guy," the Slayer smiled tentatively. "The sort who'd maybe give a girl a second chance?"

* * *

Wesley paused at the entrance to the cafeteria, conscious that all conversation had stopped and every eye had turned to him. Quelling the unease about being the centre of attention that had plagued him since childhood, he strode over to one of the tables. "May I join you?"

Xander looked up and stared evenly at him for a second before nodding. "Sure."

Such enthusiasm, it warmed his heart. "Thank you," Wesley nodded at Xander before glancing towards the young man's companion. "Miss Chase, a pleasure." After sitting down, he turned back to Xander. "Mr. Harris, I feel it imperative we strike at Ms. Morgan."

"Any particular reason?" Cordelia asked with more starch than a well pressed shirt.

"Yes," Wesley nodded. "She's the only one of the vampires important in Ripper's organisation to spend a lot of time isolated from the others, therefore she's weaker. Also you mentioned she runs Ripper's administration."

"Yeah," Xander confirmed, "she used to be a real whiz-kid lawyer."

"In that case striking at her would have a two-fold impact. Not only would it effect the day-to-day running of Ripper's empire, we could also interrogate her for more information."

"And she's probably the weakest physically of Ripper's aides being as she's the youngest and doesn't have any magical ability," Xander mused aloud before staring back at him. "So she should be easier to capture. I assume you have a plan?"

"The beginnings of one," Wesley hedged his bets.

Xander took a sip of his coffee before speaking. "Let's hear it."

* * *

Jonathan stared at her for a heart-stopping second before slowly nodding. "Sure," the teen sounded less than certain but Faith figured she'd take whatever opening she got. "First," the boy walked over to the far wall, Faith following behind, opened a cupboard stuck to the wall, pulled out a mace spray can, and passed it to her, "I've got this."

"Thanks," Faith stared at the self-defence item, "but I don't 'xactly need mace to look after myself."

"I…I know, but that's not filled with mace, I filled it with liquefied garlic and holy water."

"Nice," Faith nodded approvingly as she imagined the damage the weapon could do. "Won't do much against a Master, but against a minor vamp, it could give you the edge. Clever."

"Um, thanks." Eyes still uncertain, Jonathan passed her another aerosol. "This can's filled with its usual contents, but I engineered the nozzle so there's a flint in it. So when you use it-.".

"A flame spurts out," Faith nodded. "Very cool."

The youth stared warily at her as if suspecting sarcasm before nodding. "Thanks." The youthful inventor passed her a pair of beautifully made brass knuckles.

"You made these?" Faith asked. The boy nodded. "Nice design."

Jonathan pointed at the knuckles. "If you press the button on the side…" Faith cast the inventor a quizzical look before obeying. Her eyes widened as a trio of quarter inch high studs popped out of the top of the weapon. "Blessed silver with crosses engraved." Jonathan smiled nervously. "Punch a vampire in the face with them and listen to them scream."

"Can't wait to try 'em," Faith commented.

"And then you've got this," the inventor passed her a steel-capped stake. "If you miss a vampire's heart first time but still injure it, it'll grab the stake to pull it out, but when it grabs the stake at the steel cap to pull it out the hollow stake sends a vial of liquefied garlic and holy water into the injured area."

"That's just plain evil," she shook her head disapprovingly before beaming, "I love it."

The still uneasy youth looked down at the ground for a second before continuing. "We also use these," the boy passed her a torch, "it shoots out an UV light that burns a vampire wherever it lands. It burns but it doesn't kill them. And that's about it."

"Some wicked ideas there," Faith complimented. "That huge brain of yours must keep the vamps hoppin'. How do you think all this stuff up?"

If anything the boy looked even more uncomfortable. "I read and watch TV a lot." The teen smiled weakly. "Even before this, I didn't go out much."

Wow, way too much information. Faith shuffled from foot to foot. "Well it's real," she struggled for the correct word in her limited vocabulary, "resourceful."

"Um, thanks." The youth stared at her for a long second before speaking. "Xander always believed, even when the other two Slayers came to town and never made contact, that a Slayer would help us defeat Ripper. So he had me make some things that wouldn't be much use for us, but would work for someone with your powers."

"You made stuff for me?" Faith gasped. They'd made her stuff and she'd acted like a complete bitch.

"Well for whichever Slayer turned up," Jonathan quickly down played. "First there's a blessed silver garrotte that'll slice through a vampire's throat like butter." Faith's eyes widened as Jonathan pulled out an across body leather sheath containing four knives. "These are throwing daggers are made of teakwood. We've tried to use them but we're not strong or fast enough to get a vampire with them. And then there's this," Jonathan pulled out a steel boomerang ending in a double-pronged silver spike at both ends.

"Wow, cool," Faith praised. The teakwood knives were the prize, but she ached to give the boomerang a try too. "They're wicked. Thanks." Taken by a sudden gleeful impulse, she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to Jonathan's cheek.

"Y…you," the boy looked awestruck, "kissed me!"

Faith stared at the youth for a second. Fuck it. "A kiss?" she shook her head. "That ain't a kiss." Reaching out, she grabbed the back of Jonathan's head and pulled him into a lip-lock, her tongue eagerly working its way into the boy's hot mouth even as her hands softly caressed his face. As soon as oxygen became an issue she pulled away with a wink. "That's a kiss."

"Gah, ah," Jonathan gulped and stared glazed-eyed. "But I thought you and Harmony? I mean," the boy gulped, "I heard you last night…."

Faith grimaced, it sure didn't take long for that mistake to come back and bite her on her cute little ass. "Harm was a mistake," she chuckled bitterly. "Like pretty much every other guy or gal I've known." She forced a smile. "But I figure you're different. I figure you're a sweetheart who could make a girl feel good." She shuffled from foot to foot, heart racing as she looked at the target of her affections. "If you wanted to?"

She was surprised when Jonathan slid his hand into hers. "I haven't had my breakfast yet," the youth smiled shyly, "have you?"

Faith shook her head, suddenly shy herself. "I'm starving."

* * *

"Here is the plan," Xander began. "Tonight at 19:45 Fred will drive past the front of Lillah's office. Percy will put his throwing arm to use," Faith rolled her eyes when the former football star grinned and flexed his arm. Like that was gonna work now she had Jonathan. "By throwing a Molotov cocktail through the front window. At the same time, Wesley will be driving a car around the back, Larry will throw a cocktail through that window." Xander paused. "With nowhere else to go, Lillah and her goons will be forced into the tunnels beneath the office. When they reach the tunnel, me, Scott, Owen, and Gunn will be waiting for them. We'll take out as many goons as we can while herding Lillah towards Faith. Cor will be with Faith to positively identify Lillah in case Lillah brings any female minions with her. Faith knocks out Lillah and we bring her back to base." Xander looked around. "Any questions?"


	7. Chapter 7

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (7/?) **

****

Lillah yawned as she worked through the lines and lines of accounts, pointlessly but meticulously checking the numbers. After all, who would be stupid enough to steal from her master? The fates of those who'd either dared to challenge or fail him were the stuff of whispered legend.

But it was those very legends that motivated her to continue working. She glanced around, looking towards the three thick-chested vampires lounging on the couch towards the back of the lamp-lit office. Sighing slightly, she returned to her accounts, absently reaching for her glass of o'neg. It wasn't as good as straight from the source, but Ripper insisted that she was focussed while working.

Even as she looked up to take a sip, the window exploded in a wall of flame, the stench of smoke filling her nostrils, burning the back of her throat, and the fire crackling in her ears. Shocked by the sudden explosion, she flung her blood all over herself. For a half-second she sat there in stupefaction.

Then instinct and primal fear took over. She leapt to her feet and spun to face her body-guards. "Out the back doo-, ahhh!"

Lillan dropped to the ground as the office's rear window exploded in flames, engulfing one goon in flames. Legs rubbery with shock, Lillah pulled herself up. "Into the tunnels!" she screamed.

* * *

Xander glanced down at his cell's beep telling him the attack had begun. Licking his lips, he looked towards the others. "Be ready!"

He pulled back his coat back and drew his stake at the sound of feet on the tunnel rungs above. The moment the first vampire, a square-torsoed, towering powerhouse, hit the ground, he lunged forward, feet sloshing in the dirty water rushing through the tunnel.

The vampire spun to face him, surprise filling its scarred face. Xander grunted as the vampire threw a right cross that missed his head but thudded into his shoulder, causing pain to reverberate through his arm and his stake to fall from his grasp, splashing in the sewage water beneath him.

Ignoring the pain, he charged on, crashing into the vampire with his left shoulder, the force of their collision knocking them into the wall, the back of his adversary's head chipping brick as it bounced off. The snarling demon grabbed hold of his throat and began to squeeze. Air coming in desperate pants, he smashed a forearm into the vampire's face, shattering its nose.

Blood streaming down the creature's face, the demon flung him into the far wall. His entire body now blazing in agony, Xander flung himself to one side when the monolithic vampire charged him, leaving a hastily drawn stake for it to run on.

The moment the vampire exploded into dust, Xander looked towards his companions. "Did Lillah get past you?"

Gunn shook his head. "Chick in a power suit headed in the other direction." The African-American grinned. "On her own."

"Great," suddenly weary, Xander slumped against the wall. It was all down to the Slayer now.

* * *

Faith stared out of the corner of her eye at the cheerleader stood at the tunnel's opposite wall. She had to admit, if only to herself, the beauty had everything she'd never had but always wanted – poise, money, education. Remembering her Watcher had instructed her to try and bond with the resistance group, she figured Cordelia was her best bet. After all they had bitching hotness and a shitload of 'tude in common.

Licking her lips, she spoke, voicing a concern that had been bugging her. "What's it like dating?"

Cordelia started at her voice before glancing towards her, scorn in her eyes. "You're telling me you haven't dated?" the cheerleader scoffed. "Is it a Slayer thing, because Buffy sure was lousy with men!"

Faith shrugged with rare self-consciousness, damn this opening up crap was wicked hard. "I've fucked plenty, but I've never actually dated. I figured it was time for a change."

"Well," Cordelia sniffed, "Jonathan's certainly that."

"Hey!" Faith felt moved to defend her new boyfriend. "Johnny's smart, sweet, and kind!"

"And about as interesting as rice paper." Cordelia raised her hand. "But I'm not one to judge. My social standing took a serious hit when I started dating Xander." The curvy cheerleader paused. "I learnt an important lesson then. What other people say doesn't matter as long as he treats you right, you're happy, and you don't hurt anyone. Jonathan's a little shy, but he wouldn't hurt anyone."

Faith opened her mouth to comment then closed it when she heard the sound of approaching sloshing. Motioning her companion to silence, she sunk back into the shadows, pressing herself against the tunnel's wet stone. The moment the bedraggled runner drew level, Faith's companion shrieked. "She's the one!"

The moment the demon began to spin to face Cordy, Faith sprang out of her hiding place, catching the vampire with fang-jarring clothesline to the back of the head. The demon fell to one knee and turned its head towards her, a disbelieving look on its hideous face.

A foot to the jaw knocked the look off the monster's face, together with knocking it shoulder-first into the wall. The monster howled before leaping out of the sewage water and charging her.

Faith leaned away from a claw swipe, snatched a hold of the attacking arm at the wrist, twisted at the waist, and straightened her arm. "Ahhh!" the demon screamed as it flew over her bent frame and crashed face-first into the far wall.

As soon as the dazed vampire managed to stumble to its feet Faith was on it, her heel kick to the back of the head knocking the unfortunate monster back into the wall. This time the demon attempted to turn to face her but she was remorseless.

Faith dropped into a crouch beneath a feeble right hook, blocked an underpowered left knee to the face on her forearm, and then snapped a blindingly fast trio of blows into the female demon's midsection. The moment the demon started to double up, Faith surged to her feet, linked her hands around the back of the vampire's head and yanked it down into a succession of crunching knees to the face.

"Jesus, Slayer," she heard the resistance leader's shocked voice behind her, "she's out."

"Can't be too careful." Grabbing two handfuls of hair, she slammed the vampire's skull into the wall twice before dropping its limp body to the waters underfoot. "Now it's out," she announced. "Got the chains?" Faith grimaced inwardly. Now came the hard part.

* * *

"Aaaah," Lillah groaned as she awoke, her face throbbing like she'd been worked over by a Sosa swung bat. Forcing her eyes open, she found herself in a dark drab room, chained to a steel gurney, and surrounded by a bunch of people she vaguely recognised and one, an ebony-eyed beauty she instinctively loathed. That bitch, she had to be the Slayer. "Ripper will make you pay for this!"

The Slayer chuckled, although her eyes remained cold. "Was I you, I'd be way more worried about myself than anyone else. 'Ppreciate the thought tho'." The teen's black locks danced as she looked around. "Rest of you out," she ordered. "Me and Wes will take care of things from her-."

"This is my group," the resistance leader interrupted. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I…I need to ask her questions about passwords and stuff," a short, pale-faced boy commented. The Slayer shook her head, cupid lips opening in a protest. "I'm the only one qualified to ask them."

"Fine," the Slayer scowled at the boy before turning to her.

"Ah," Lillah forced a sneer. "Young love, how sweet," she paused. "I do so – ahhh!"

She screeched and stared in horror at the filed down steel cross the Slayer had thrust through her hand, pinning it to the gurney, smoke wafting up from the wound. "Like I said," the raven-haired bitch calmly spoke, "was I you, I'd be more worried about myself than anybody else."

"Oh god, owww, owww, ahhhhh." Sweat pouring off her, Lillah forced her eyes away from her impaled hand and to the Slayer. "I won't talk," she promised. "Ripper would kill me."

"And I won't?" the supernatural warrior raised a finely mascaraed eyebrow. "Lady, you're a dust-bag just waitin' to happen. Only question is do you go hard or easy?"

Lillah screamed as the Slayer emphasised the point by spraying something directly into her left eye. Her eye appeared to burst into an unceasing, impossibly hot flame. "Lady," by contrast the brunette's voice was colder than ice, "you ain't nothing to me. Only way to end this quickly is by giving us the answers we need."

* * *

"Lillah's been taken."

Ripper swung from his perusal of the feeding pens, such delicious desperation, to face the speaker. "Taken?"

Angelus swallowed at his hard tone. "Neither her or her escort returned from the office last night. I sent one of the 'Wanna-Bes'," the Irish vampire referred to the humans who willingly served them either in the hope of gaining power or being turned, "to check on the office."

"And?" Ripper impatiently growled when the vampire failed to continue. 

"The office has been firebombed at the front and rear."

"Firebombed?" Ripper's temper flared. That damn Slayer. First all those minions, now Lillah. What next? Forcing his seething under control, Ripper smiled tightly. "So she's working with the resistance is she? Rather than going straight at me like the last two." He managed a laugh. "The lass has a cagier Watcher than the others. Less hidebound by tradition." His smile was replaced by a scowl. "But it won't make any difference. Not in the long run."


	8. Chapter 8

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (8/?) **

****

Gunn swung his axe left and right, muscles tightening as he trained, repeating the same set of manoeuvres until they were second nature. And then moving onto the next set. "You always knew how to handle your weapon, Chuck." 

Gunn spun around to face the speaker. He was surprised that despite her flippant remark, the sultry Slayer looked uncharacteristically nervous. "Faith."

The curvy Bostonian smiled weakly. "We need to talk."

"Really?" Gunn stared down at the supernatural warrior. "I thought you'd said all you wanted to last night?"

He was again surprised when the Slayer's face fell. "Yeah, 'bout that," Faith bit her bottom lip before continuing. "You were right, I was outta line."

"Is that an apology I hear?" he mocked.

The Slayer's ruby lips quirked up into a shit-eating grin. "Nearest I'm ever gonna get to one, 'least ways," she retorted. The brunette paused. "I was wrong to break up with you that way."

"I know you won't believe it, but the position of my girl-friend is still open," Gunn replied.

"No, I believe you alright, but," he was disappointed when the sassy Bostonian shook her head, "you're a good guy, a real good one, but I was dating you for the wrong reasons. I wanna," Faith shrugged, "start doing the right thing for the right reason. You get that?" Gunn didn't but nodded anyway. The Slayer smiled slightly. "You willin' to settle for friends?"

Gunn smiled. "I think I can manage that."

The Slayer dazzled him with a dimple-deepening smile. "Wicked."

* * *

"Anything useful in those books?"

Wesley started at the voice behind him. Gathering himself, he glanced over his shoulder to see the resistance group's resident witch stood in the doorway of what passed for the mansion's library\study. "Miss Madison," he greeted as he hurriedly yet reluctantly put the book down and rose. "They're an interesting record of Miss. Summers and Mr. Giles' exploits, but unfortunately don't provide any useful insight into his mind. The only hints I've been able to unearth suggest that 'Ripper' is somewhat a regression to Mr. Giles' 'rowdy' youth." Wesley paused. "One thing that does puzzle me though. In the eighteen months Miss Summers served as Sunnydale's Slayer she faced a veritable myriad of demons. And yet your own records state you face comparatively few in the past three years."

The witch's pretty face twisted into a grimace. "That's down to Ripper. He likes things to run smoothly, no sightings of unusual demons to alarm the locals, no apocalyptic rituals, and no messy massacres. Any demon that comes to the Hellmouth to cause trouble is quickly dealt with." Amy paused. "It sounds almost sick, but I almost wish I'd have been a Scooby in the early days. As you know from the diaries, I was involved in two of their adventures, but to face all those demons must have been challenging."

Wesley smiled fondly at the witch. "I sense something of a kindred spirit."

Amy reddened. "I'd be interested in hearing about your own adventures with Faith."

It was Wesley's turn to redden. "It would be my honour, dear. I feel I should warn you though, my stories are hardly as colourful as Mr. Giles'."

"Oh I'm sure they'll be just fine." Amy smiled. "And the company of someone interested in demonology and magic would be more than welcome."

Wesley bowed his head slightly. "And I would more than welcome such delightful company."

* * *

"Tell me where you managed to get the C4?"

Xander smirked at the Slayer's question. "You heard about the time we faced the Judge?"

The brunette beauty shrugged even as she continued to look through the binoculars fixed on the currently empty road. "He babbles on sometimes, I tend not to listen."

"Maybe you should." For the first time the Bostonian looked towards him. "His plan about Lillah worked."

The Slayer arched a finely mascaraed eyebrow. "'Bout the Judge?"

Xander nodded even as he wondered if he'd scored a point for the struggling Englishman. "During that little incident I broke into an army base with Cordy," the brunette chuckled throatily, "and stole a rocket launcher. After Ripper attacked the school, me, Percy, and Jonathan went back and stole some supplies."

"John," for the first time since he'd met her, there was an uncertain note in the curvy Bostonian's voice, "he's on the level, right?"

Xander glanced across at his companion, his wariness about her slightly ebbing with this glimpse behind her carefully constructed armour. "He's as loyal as they come," Xander grimaced.

"What's up, Harris?"

"I wish I could say the same about myself." His raven-haired companion shot him a suspicious look. Xander shook his head. "No, nothing like that. All the way through junior high, we had a clique – me, Wills, Amy, Jonathan, and Jesse. Amy kinda drifted away from us, but when Buff turned up," he looked down at the dusty ground, "me and Wills sorta forgot about Jonathan. We were too important for him. We had a mission."

"Everyone makes mistakes," the Slayer said after a second. "Wes reckons that the important thing is learning from them. He might even be righ-," the Slayer's tone turned from contemplative to tension-filled in a micro-second, "fuck, they're here!"

Xander stared through his one-handed telescope. Sure enough a convoy of dust-grey trucks were heading into the valley he crouched at the opposite end of. Just like Lillah had said, carrying their 'cattle' for Ripper's feeding pens.

Xander smiled grimly. The feeding pens might be impregnable, but the convoy certainly wasn't. His thumb pressed down on the detonator as the last truck entered the valley.

* * *

Cordelia's eyes widened as the first truck's wheels exploded, rubber flying off, and the truck skidding and flipping over to crash down on its side at the valley's exit. Gathering herself, Cordelia pressed her own detonator.

The force of the explosion lifted the last truck off its back wheels and flipped it over onto its back. The ground shook with enough impact to make the vehicle just in front career off the road and crash into a boulder.

Cordelia smirked as she noted the other three trucks come to stops, stymied by the chaos. Suddenly her ear-piece crackled into life. "Extraction teams are a go!"

* * *

Jonathan's blood thundered as he joined Larry and Percy in racing down the valley's slopes to the haphazardly parked lorries, the two football stars' longer legs and greater athleticism ensuring they were streaking ahead of him.

Reaching the back doors of their target, Jonathan was grateful that he'd had the foresight to suggest they bring bolt-cutters. Reaching up, he snapped through the lorry's padlocked chain and yanked the door open.

He gasped as the stench from within hit him, the mingled smells of sweat, urine, and faeces almost flooring him. Gathering himself, he peered into the truck, dozens of pairs of frightened eyes gleaming back at him. "Get out!" he yelled, voice squeaking in the tense moment. "Run for it!"

"Jon! Watch out!"

Turning at Larry's anguished shout, he saw the powerfully-built footballer stake one vampire as another charged past him and towards Jonathan. Deciding he didn't have time to draw his stake, Jonathan swung his bolt-cutters for all he was worth.

"Runt!" the vampire snarled as he blocked Jonathan's desperate attack on his upper left arm before stepping in and throwing a right at Jonathan's head. Jonathan jerked away from the attack, the punch smashing with denting force into the lorry's door, even as he attempted a snap heel-kick at the monster's inner knee.

The vampire grunted as he blocked the kick on his thigh. Jonathan gasped as the demon caught him with a dazing backhand slap to the head. "Ummmm," he groaned as the vampire snatched hold of his throat and slammed him against the lorry.

Back aching, he made for a kick only to gasp as the vampire buried a knee deep into his gut. Vision blurring, he was contemptuously flung to the ground. "Ooooooh," he muttered as his hair was grabbed and he was dragged back to his knees. His elbow caught the demon in his hip, but failed to stop the vampire from slamming his head against the lorry door with teeth-rattling force.

"That's my man you're messin' with." Suddenly the hand around his head disappeared and he was covered by descending dust. "Hey," a pair of gentle hands took hold of him under his armpits and eased him to his feet, "you five by five?" Jonathan smiled dazedly at the Slayer. His heart leapt as his befuddled mind caught up with just what she'd said. 'Her man?' "Wicked," the Slayer beamed at him. "Damn, never thought the smell of burning rubber could get me so wet." Faith stared at him for a second. "Or maybe it's the hot as hell company?"

"Ga, ah, uh, uh," Jonathan babbled.

"Oh yeah baby," Faith panted with a teasing smirk. "Talk dirty to me, you naughty boy."

* * *

Ripper stared around the poorly-lit, underground chamber. It was a long room, its entrance guarded by four gun-toting vampires at its surface and another quartet inside the pens with standing orders than nerve be gas released should the outside guard be over-powered. Nerve gas that would kill those raggedly-clothed victims imprisoned in the cells lining the chamber, their forlorn pleas and sobs permanently silenced.

Normally the captives' useless begging would force a smile from him, no matter the circumstances. Not today though. "All of them escaped?"

The muscular vampire beside him shrugged. "A few stragglers were re-captured, but most of them, yeah."

Ripper's scowl deepened at Angelus' report. Six hundred 'blood-bags', an offering from his mid-west subordinate, enough food to keep his Sunnydale army fed for around a month. "How many of the escort survived?"

"Four."

"Kill them," Ripper growled. "Then send orders to Winters to have an emergency delivery here by the weekend."

His companion blanched. "Six hundred kids off the streets of California in less than three days is tricky." 

"He'll do it if he knows what's good for him," Ripper warned. "I want patrols on all our assets bolstered and everybody on the lookout for likely candidates for turning – soldiers, cops, and martial artists. Before this was amusing, but this is the last outrage!"


	9. Chapter 9

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (9/?) **

****

"How about Penn?" Gunn suggested as the meeting to discuss what target to attack next continued into its second hour. "He's the only one of Ripper's major allies who goes off alone."

"His schedule's way too unpredictable for us to set a trap without having someone tailing him," Cordelia pointed out before smirking. "Are you volunteering?"

"'Kay," Faith broke the tense silence that followed the cheerleader's put-down. "So what we gonna do? I ain't sittin' 'round twiddlin' my thumbs waitin' for Ripper to strike back."

"I think we can all agree that keeping Ripper off balance is a good idea," Xander put in. "Question is how?"

"I might have an idea," Wesley put in, tone characteristically tentative. "We make an example of the most high-ranking 'Wanna-Be'."

"We cant!" Jonathan let out a shocked squeak. "Wanna-Bes are humans."

"Yeah, they're humans." Faith nodded. "They're humans who chose to work for vampires. Vampires don't have a choice being evil, Wanna-Bes do. In my book, they're worse."

"But killing humans," Amy shook her head. "We've never killed humans."

"Word to the wise," Faith replied. "Demons aren't the only evil out there. And I've killed plenty of humans – a telekinetic assassin in Texas, a Kentuckian cannibal family, a necromancer in Calgary, and a Voodoo priestess in New Orleans." Faith hid a wince at Jonathan's shocked expression. 'Kay, maybe she shouldn't have been quite so blunt. 

Thankfully Gunn plunged into the stunned hush that followed her revelation. "Guy's working for the baddest dog in the pound I ain't waiting 'round to ask if his heart's beatin' or not. Way I figure it, live or dead, his heart's rotten to the core."

"During the second world war," Wesley's more measured tone followed Gunn's, "the French resistance were almost more aggressive pursuing the Vichy French, collaborators, then they were against the Germans, reasoning such action discouraged collaboration."

"That was a war!" protested Amy.

"But this isn't?" Harris looked towards the remembrance wall. "Try telling them that."

Harris wasn't subtle, but he seemed to have got the point across. "Hitting City Hall during the day makes more sense," Cordelia volunteered. "That way they can't send for reinforcements except," the cheerleader's nose wrinkled, "through the sewers."

Faith shook her head. "I don't have a problem killing evil humans. Problem is, we don't know if any human employees that Finch might have are in on it and I ain't takin' the risk of killing innocents."

"Night-time it is then," Wesley looked towards Xander. "We'll need the layout of City Hall to plan our attack."

"Yeah," Xander looked towards Jonathan.

"Faith," Wesley whispered in her ear, "Trick running Finch's security won't be a problem will it?"

"No," Faith felt an icy finger work up her spine at her memories of Trick, "no problem at all."

* * *

The moment the meeting broke up, Faith rose and hurried towards Jonathan. "Hey Jon," she forced a bright smile even as her insides twisted, "I thought we could maybe talk?"

"About what?" Jonathan's voice trembled, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. "About what it's like to kill another human?"

"Johnny," she reached to stroke his cheek only to pull away at his heart-rending flinch. Jesus, did he think she was gonna hurt him?

"I've gotta go." Shocked and hurt into immobility, she could only watch as Jonathan hurried out of the conference room. Tears formed in her eyes. The one decent guy she'd felt anything for and he didn't want her. No surprise there, all Wes' fine words were crap, she was worthless.

* * *

Tears blurred Jonathan's vision as he stumbled to his room, oblivious to his friends rushing around him. The first girl to ever notice he existed. Beautiful, confident, strong. She was dazzling and he hadn't even questioned why someone like her would be interested in a nobody like him. And now he had his answer, there was something inherently wrong with her.

He realised he'd stopped by his door. Reaching out a trembling hand, he opened the door. "We need to talk."

Jonathan gasped as a strong hand slammed into his back between his shoulder blades, knocking him to his knees inside the room. Looking up at his assailant, he squeaked a protest. "You can't do this! Get out!"

The door slammed shut behind his intruder. "I don't think so," Gunn replied. He gasped as the big demon hunter grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him to his feet. "Not until I've explained a few things." Jonathan opened his mouth to repeat his demand for the African-American to get out. "Shut it. Look at you man," the black's nostrils flared disdainfully, "you should be worshipping the ground Faith walks on. Instead you treat her like crap!"

"She's killed people!" he protested. "That might not mean anything to you, but it does to me!"

He gasped when the African-American's eyes hardened and he pushed Jonathan into the door. "Wake-, no grow up!" the African-American stuck his face in his. "Do you think this is a game? Do you think those Faith killed are innocents? That they wouldn't rip your heart out as soon as look at you? This isn't a fairy tale and we're not the knights of the round table! This is real life and we're in a war!" Suddenly the African-American stepped back, disgust written across his face. "I don't know why I'm wasting my time here. I should be going to Faith's using this to get myself back with her." Jonathan scowled, Gunn chuckled grimly. "Oh yeah, you still like her. Unfortunately you make her happy, so I'm not going to make a move. But sort this out and fast or I will."

* * *

"Are you ready?"

Faith started as Wes' voice crackled in her newly-acquired earpiece. Forcing thoughts of her disintegrating relationship aside, she stared up at the looming building before her. "Yeah," she whispered, "I'm ready."

The plan was simple enough, she mused as she shot her grappling hook up onto the fourth floor ledge and began climbing up. She'd break in through one of the upper windows. At roughly the same time, the resistance group would hit the building at its front and rear entrances, and the sewers, hopefully diverting the vamps downstairs.

It was the 'hopefully' that worried her. Faith scowled as she cut a hole through the nearest window and climbed into a darkened room. If the vamps didn't buy into their diversion, she'd be left alone in a building filled with demons.

Always a fun place for a gal with an empty dance card to be.

Quelling her disquiet, Faith turned on her pencil-light to find she was in a dusty storeroom. Making her way to the door, she whispered into her ear-piece. "I'm in position, Wes."

"Understood. Good luck."

"Thanks." After easing the door open, she crept into the dimly-lit, drably-carpeted corridor beyond. A smile tugged at her lips at the sound of alarms going off. It seemed things were all going to plan.

Now all she needed to do was kill a man.

A dead weight settled on her chest. Whatever Johnny thought, she didn't like killing. But every person she'd slain had preyed on the helpless, people she was sworn to protect. Just like Finch, a politician who turned a blind eye to vampires, co-operating with them so it was easier for them to do what they wished.

Reaching a stairwell, she crept down onto the second floor where she knew Finch's office was. She started onto the floor, easing the stairwell's iron-grey door open.

A foot slammed into the door, trapping her head between the frame and the door as she peeked through the gap. Dazed, Faith slumped against the door frame, helpless to prevent a hand roughly snatching a hold of her hair and flinging her onto the corridor carpet.

Faith grunted as she hit the corridor on her shoulder before rolling up to confront her adversary. And then her world slowed to an almost dead stop.

"Trick," she whispered. Faith froze as she recalled the frenzied hours spent tearing through Boston demon dives vainly searching for Bel when the demon and his sire had snatched her. And finally finding her ravaged body.

The vampire took advantage of her momentary shock to drive a right into her forehead. Head ringing, Faith dropped to one knee before diving out of the way of a follow-up kick at her face.

"Ripper wants you for himself, he has a real thing for Slayers." Trick's smile could have chilled the sun. "So I guess this will have to be our little secret."

Faith didn't bother with a reply, choosing instead to concentrate of surviving. After rolling away from a stomp to the back, she kipped up to her feet. Trick snarled before throwing a right she slid inside before crashing a forearm into her adversary's face.

The demon stumbled backwards before retaliating with a leaping crescent kick. Faith responded by hooking her arm around the creature's ankle and pulling up.

The vampire fell with a roar, crashing headfirst to the ground. Faith's hand darted into her jacket for her stake. Her fingers were closing around the stake when the demon was up and on her, fists and feet flying.

Faith winced as a heel kick crashed into her left thigh. Snatching hold of her attacker's leg under the knee, she twisted her body at the waist throwing the demon off-balance and into a fire extinguisher fastened to the cream painted wall.

Trick growled and ripped the extinguisher off the wall, flinging it at her. Faith dropped to the ground, the projectile flying overhead and into the wall behind. Faith forward rolled to the vampire's side and leapt up, grabbing the demon around the mid-section and belly-to-belly suplexing him into the glass cabinet to the side.

The cabinet shattered on impact, crashing down on top of them. "Shitttt" Faith writhed in agony as the cabinet's wooden frame smashed into her left knee. Ignoring the pain, she repeatedly elbowed the vampire lying beside her in the head before snatching up a shard of glass and dragging it across the beast's throat.

Faith let out a relieved sob as the demon exploded into dust. Finally it was over. The last of Bel's killers was dead.

Her blood chilled as she heard the sound of a door opening behind her. She looked up to see a man she recognised from the local papers as Allan Finch walking out and carrying a big revolver. The politician's hand trembled but mostly he pointed the weapon at her.


	10. Chapter 10

FIC: The Nightstalkers (10/?)

Faith swallowed as the air resonated to the sound of the pale-faced man dragging the hammer back on his revolver. "T…the master," the man trembled as he approached, legs shaking beneath him, "will be very pleased when I bring him you."

Wincing with the effort, Faith shoved the ruined cabinet off and attempted to stand. "Oh god!" she screamed as her left leg buckled under her, dropping back to the carpet with a painful thud.

"O…of course I'll have to shoot you in the," sweat beads glistened on the Mayor's forehead, "knees first, to make sure you don't resist." Heart pounding, Faith started to crawl the length of the corridor, the politician in dogged pursuit.

"Aaaaah!" the city official screamed as a jet of fire hit him in the face, the stench of charred flesh filling the air. "Aaaaah!!" The wounded civil servant shot blindly at his attacker only for a diminutive shape to crash into the wounded man, knocking them both to the carpet, the interloper on top. "Aaaaah!" The newcomer snatched up a glass shard from the floor and repeatedly drove it into the Mayor's ravaged face.

The newcomer slumped on top of the corpse for a second before wearily raising his head and turning towards her. Faith's heart leapt. "J…Jon." Her boyfriend smiled weakly. Faith's eyes misted over. Despite everything, he'd cared enough to come for, to save, her. She smiled weakly. "Hey, wanna give a girl a hand up?"

"Sure," Jonathan scrambled to his feet, hurried over to her side and eased him upright, his gentle arm around her shoulders just about the best thing she'd ever experienced. Despite that, Faith was unable to stop herself moaning when she tried to step through her left leg. Jonathan shot her a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

Faith smiled with rare softness. "Some ice and a coupla days' rest and I'll be five by five. Thanks to you." Jonathan reddened. "How come ya're here?"

"I…I split from the others after we got in," Jonathan explained. "I…I had to make sure that you were okay." Jonathan glanced down at the corpse. "I…I didn't want to kill him, but I couldn't let him hurt you."

"That's what life's about Johnny," her boyfriend's blush deepened when she laid a gentle kiss on his cheek, "making the hard choices." Faith winced as pain flared through her leg again. "How about you help me out of here?"

"Um, sure."

* * *

"Faith, may I come in?"

"Sure Wes," Faith grinned as the Watcher started into her room then stopped, a deep blush colouring his cheeks. Dressed in cotton shorts that were short enough to allow her to press an ice pack to her injured leg and a tiny crop top, her Watcher's reaction was as enjoyable as it was predictable.

"I beg your pardon," the Englishman quickly closed his eyes and spun to face the door. "I merely wished to check how your leg was progressing?"

"Relax, Wes," Faith smirked, "ain't nothing you ain't seen before. Sit down."

"Very well." The bespectacled man coughed before turning around and sitting on the edge of her bed, eyes resolutely fixed on the wall opposite. "How is your leg?"

Faith's smirk widened at the Watcher's staunch properness. "Slayer healing is wicked cool. Wes, I was thinkin'…"

The Englishman chuckled. "Words that never fail to fill me with dread."

Faith ignored that 'cause she was the bigger person. Oh, and she needed somethin'. "Once this is over," she paused, her normal glibness momentarily failing her. "This is the Hellmouth isn't it? I figure that maybe we should be stationed here permanently."

"Oh dear," it was Wes' turn to chuckle. "I thought you were rather more cunning that that." The Englishman turned to face her. "Young Mr. Levinson has made quite an impression hasn't he?" Faith felt a flame rise in her cheeks. "You will be careful won't you?"

"I ain't 'xactly a virgin, Wes," Faith defensively replied.

She was surprised when Wesley patted her on the back of her hand. "I know dear," the Englishman gently replied. "But I also know you're not used to forming deep emotional attachments. Don't rush head-long in." The Englishman paused. "If you promise to be careful, I'll consider moving here on a more permanent basis." Faith beamed. Wesley chuckled. "You should do that more often." Faith stared at her Watcher, confusion furrowing her brow. "Smile like that; you'll have young Mr. Levinson even more under your spell." The Watcher chuckled. "If that is of course possible."

Faith's mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to retaliate. "And how about you and Ams?" she needled. "You hopin' to turn that meeting of minds into a grinding of bodies?" She grinned as her Watcher leapt up, spluttered something indistinct, and back-pedalled out of her room. That'd teach him to mess with her!

* * *

"How do you think the Slayer's turning out?"

Xander took a second to contemplate the question even as he looked down at its source, his naked girl-friend huddled in a ball by his side. He brushed a stray hair off her face before replying. "Better than I thought," he admitted. "She seems as good in battle as the rumours made out and appears to actually listen and be able to work in a team which I didn't think she would."

Cordelia sniffed. "The Cleavage-Bomb and Jonathan are a weird pair."

Xander chuckled at his girl-friend's comment. "People said the same about us-, oof!" he grunted then chuckled at his girl-friend's less than playful gut punch. "My tiger's still got her claws."

Cordelia giggled. "You know it buster." The former cheerleader scowled. "If this Slayer's so red hot why aren't we going up against Ripper straight on?"

"Because," Xander sighed. "Ripper's far too strong. But if we hit him sideways on, we destabilise him, make him look bad, and annoy him into making rash decisions, then we go in for the kill."

"Sounds like a long job."

"Yeah," Xander grimaced. "It does, doesn't it."

* * *

Jonathan walked through the base's corridors, eyes fixed on the rusty brown carpet. Faith was safe, but to ensure her safety, he'd killed. Not a demon, but another human being. He shuddered inwardly as he remembered the man's screams, the way he'd felt under him as he'd trashed his last.

"Oh look who it isn't. The hero."

Jonathan stopped and looked up at the mocking voice. "H…hi, Harmony," he smiled weakly. School was some years behind them, but there was still a part of him that shrivelled inside when confronted with his former tormenter.

The blonde's smile widened, perfect white teeth gleaming maliciously. "Jonathan," Harmony sniffed. "So now you're the tough guy. That'll get Faith all over you." The blonde paused before giggling. "Until she realises what a dork you are. Even a humongous slut like her won't put up with you for long! Boring!"

The former cheerleader pushed past him before hurrying off. Jonathan spun after her, mouth opening in a defiant protestation only to close it again without uttering a syllable. His shoulders slumped. It wasn't as if Harmony wasn't saying anything he didn't already know. A girl as wild, experienced, and passionate as Faith would soon tire of his nervous fumblings.

* * *

"Come on you buggers!"

After a second the two vampires charged him. Ripper threw his head back and laughed. Taken aback, the two demons paused in their advance.

Ripper took advantage of their confusion to leap forward, hammering a hard right into the nearest vampire's jaw. Even as the demon stumbled backwards, Ripper turned his attention to the demon's companion, snatching a hold of his shoulders and yanking him towards him and into a knee to the groin.

The vampire grunted but to his credit managed to respond with a left hook that Ripper blocked on his elbow before nutting the wanker. The demon's nose shattered under the brutal impact. Ripper lunged forward to finish him off.

Unfortunately the other demon chose that moment to leap back into the fight, slamming a foot into Ripper's upper right thigh. "Bastard!" Ripper's eyes flickered yellow as pain stabbed through his leg. Ducking under the demon's fellow-up leaping spin kick, Ripper simultaneously blocked a kick at his face from the other vampire on his forearm.

At that moment, the third vampire in the room decided to enter the fray, charging him from behind. Feeling the demon's hands dropping onto his shoulders, Ripper reached up, grabbed his attacker's wrists and threw him into the other two.

Even as the trio hit the ground, Ripper charged forward. The first to reach his feet received as his reward a kick to the jaw that knocked him flat back down. The second caught a heel kick to the stomach that folded him up like a deck chair, helpless to prevent a karate chop to the back of the neck.

Leaping over the descending demon, he caught the third of his sparring partners with a double-footed drop kick to the chest, knocking him into the wall. Hitting the ground in a crouch besides the first of his opponents, Ripper took great delight in stomping on the downed demon's face. The second dived at him, but Ripper side-stepped the desperate attack and retaliated with a jaw-smashing palm strike. Ripper chuckled as he looked around his decimated sparring partners, savouring their piteous moans. "And he cried for there were no more worlds to conquer."

"Oh I don't know about that."

Ripper turned to face Angelus stood in the gym's doorway. " Have you something to say?"

"Only that Trick and Finch are dead."

The news hit like a lightning bolt. Forcing his temper under control, he glared his almost smirking sire. "The Slayer?"

Angelus nodded. "Who else?"

Ripper let out a frustrated snarl that had the defeated trio charging for the exit. He'd gone to a hell of a lot of trouble breaking in Finch. First he'd killed the previous mayoral incumbent, an apparent necromancer of considerable skill, and then he'd intimidated and bribed Finch into seeing things his way. All that work gone and Trick dead to boot.

Ripper pursed his lips, a bitter taste in his mouth. The Slayer had now gone past amusing and into the territory of being annoying. If he left things much longer she might even become a threat. "Angelus, how is the recruiting coming along?"

"Penn and I have identified a choice target we're going to take soon. A very dangerous man."

"Good." Mindful of his minion developing a power-base, he came to a decision. "Bring him to me." Judging from Angelus' sour expression he'd made the correct choice. "Your friends, James and Elizabeth, have them sent for." Angelus started to smirk. And I want Death's Bastards here."

Angelus shook his head. "We don't need those crazy-."

"I say what we need." Ripper interrupted. "Get them."


	11. Chapter 11

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (11/?) **

****

"What I don't get is if Wolfram &Hart were all so all fired powerful how did Ripper and his gang manage to take them over?"

"Ripper took a leaf out of Hitler's play-book. Unsurprising when you consider he was a historian," Xander nodded at the buxom Bostonian's query. "Once he'd cowed vampires throughout the world, Ripper used the information Lillah had given him to target W&H offices across the globes, fourteen operations in six continents in all, and attack them all in one night. W&H employees died in their thousands, the law firm tried to continue and strike back, but Ripper was remorseless, and his forces vastly out-numbered W&H's. Soon people were just too frightened to take W&H jobs and the law firm was forced off dimension."

"Right." After a second the sultry Slayer nodded, her dark eyes serious. "Know anything about this Winters?"

"He runs San Diego, San Francisco, Santa Monica, and Los Angeles for Ripper. He's probably the most powerful vampire on this continent outside of the inner circle." Xander paused. "Because Winters is the nearest underlord it's my guess that he's the one who supplied the bodies to replace those who escaped when we hit the supply convoy two weeks ago." 

"Yeah, great," Faith shot him a frustrated look. "I meant Winters' origin, how old he is, that sorta thing. I like to know a little about the Master Vampires I'm huntin'." 

"Perhaps I can help," Wesley spoke up as they crouched in the shadows of a garage across the road from the gleaming skyscraper that had once been Wolfram & Hart's LA base. The Englishman pushed his glasses up his nose before continuing. "My last year thesis was 'Notable North American Vampires'." Faith yawned theatrically. "Thank you, Ms. Lehane." The Watcher sniffed. "I assume you don't want this information after all?"

"Ah jeez," Faith waved a nonchalant hand at the Englishman. "Panties, unbunch 'em. Spill the beans, English." 

Wesley shot the Slayer a withering look that bounced off the beautiful brunette's rhino hide. "Winters is believed to be one of the very earliest railroad barons." Xander joined the curvy Bostonian in staring blankly at the Watcher. "After the American Civil War, Russell Winters was one of the men who championed the spread of railroads across the states. He was sired by a former riverboat gambler called Louis Savate, a not particularly notable blood-sucker. As befits his origins, the vampire Russell Winters has always been more of an organiser and entrepreneur rather than a fighter."

"Good to know," Faith looked from Wes to him. "What's the 411 on Winters anyhow?"

"Over the last week Gunn, Scott, Percy, Owen, and Larry have been running a rolling surveillance on him. He rarely leaves the offices," Wes and Faith looked towards the imposing office block, "and when he does he's always in an armoured car and with an armed escort."

"Damn." Faith scowled. "We won't have time to organise a hit unless we wait around for him outside."

"To do that would run the risk of being spotted," Wesley commented.

"Sorta pointing out the obvious there," Faith snarked before sobering. "Any weak points in the building?"

After a second Xander shook his head. "The front and rear entrances are heavily guarded. The only possible weak point is through the outer entrance to the parking lot. Even then, its inner entrance is heavily guarded. And even if by some miracle we managed to get into the building, we'd have to fight our way through twenty floors to get to Winters."

There was a long pause then Wesley spoke. "How about roof access?"

"You got wings, Wes?" Faith half-laughed. "'Cause I know I ain't Spiderman." The brunette pouted thoughtfully. "They use Wanna-Bes in there?"

"Yeah," Xander nodded. Then his mouth dropped open as he belatedly realised just what the Slayer was hinting at. "Oh no," he shook his head. "You can't be serious." 

"What?" Wes' face took on a look of horrified realisation. "Oh no, I forbid it!"

"Forbid it?" Xander groaned at the mulish look on the Slayer's face. Once again, Wes had managed to put both feet squarely in it. "Last time I checked you don't own me." The beautiful brunette looked towards him. "Anywhere you can scare up a suit for me?"

"Faith!" Wesley stepped between him and the Slayer, grabbing her by her arms. Which made the Englishman either a lot braver or a lot stupider than he thought. "I'm sorry, I merely wished to advise you against a course of action that could lead you into a situation that even your skills couldn't handle."

The Bostonian's expressive eyes softened slightly. "I made a promise, remember?"

"Faith," Wesley barely breathed. "Bel wouldn't expect you to risk your life in such a reckless fashion."

"Yeah," the Slayer's husky voice caught before steadying. "But she ain't here anymore."

Xander looked from each of his companions in turn, not at all sure what the duo were talking about and not much caring. "Are we doing this or not?"

"We're doing it," Faith resolutely replied.

* * *

"That damn girl!" Wesley slammed his hotel room door. His temper bubbled over and then ignited, his foot kicking a hole in the wall. Next went the bedside table, a single shove toppling it over. Snatching up the lamp that had fallen off the table, he flung it at the painting hanging over the bed, picture glass and lamp shattering on impact.

And just as suddenly his rage was gone. Wesley slumped down on the side of his bed, head in hands. Why wouldn't Faith listen? Why wouldn't she believe that he wanted nothing more than to look after her, to be her friend? Why wouldn't she believe that he had only his best interests in mind?

He wished he could blame it on his gender, that the Slayer couldn't trust him because of her torrid past, but while that doubtless contributed to their tumultuous relationship, he had to bear the lion's share of the blame. His previous condescending behaviour and cold attitude had only caused the already wary child to build further walls of mistrust.

He was a failure as a Watcher, just as his father had predicted.

Wesley looked up at a soft knock at the door. "Wes, can I come in?" When he didn't answer, too lost in his mood to bother, the door swung tentatively open. "Wow," Amy looked left and right before stepping through. "My guess is your room deposit is gone."

"Hello Miss Madison," Wesley looked around the devastated room and to the room's solitary chair. "Please, take a seat."

"Thanks," Amy looked around as she sat down. "Did Motley Crue have a reunion and no-body bother to tell their no. 1 fan?" Wesley stared blankly at the young witch. "Pop culture reference, never mind." The Sunnydale High graduate stared at him. "I take it your meeting with Faith didn't go well?" 

"Didn't go well?" Even to his own ears, Wesley's laughed sounded off-note, filled with bitterness and hysteria. "That stupid, foolish girl has so little regard, puts so little value on her life that she eagerly rushed into any insane adventure!"

"And yet she's still here," Amy pointed out.

"True enough." Wesley managed a weak smile. "But you didn't come here to talk about Faith."

"It's not important-."

"Nonsense my dear," Wesley shook his head. "I'm sure you had something fascinating to say, you always have." Wesley grinned slightly. "And to be honest, I'd be appreciative of something to take my mind off that blasted insubordinate Slayer."

"Okay," Amy took a breath. "Like I told you ever since I joined the Nightstalkers I've been interested in vampire hunters. Both for the weapons ideas for Jonathan and tactics for Xander." The witch's cheeks flushed. "And for my own interest." 

"Learning is its own reward," Wesley commented.

"Yeah," Amy nodded. "Anyway I used Giles' books, websites, and books I picked up off the internet. I researched all the classics – Bel-Marduk of Babylon, Atum-Ra of Egypt, Arjuna of India, Liu Weng of China, Taira no Kiyomori of Japan, Apellon Melan of Greece, and Sigfried and Jan Olsen of Norway. But the one name I kept returning to was Angelus' arch-enemy-."

"Daniel Holtz," Wesley smiled as his friend's shocked look. "He's required reading for apprentice Watchers. He's killed close to four hundred vampires before his mysterious disappearance, more than any non-powered human in verifiable history. He must have been a terrifying fellow."

"And his maybe not so mysterious disappearance." Amy smiled at his raised eyebrow. "I cross-referenced my work on Holtz with prophecies." 

"You have been a busy girl," Wesley commented.

"I don't date much," Amy smiled.

"I can't imagine why." Wesley chuckled when his remark was met by the wicca's blush. "Please continue."

"I came across a prophecy that said the son of the vampire with a soul would kill a time-travelling demon by the name of Sarjhan." Amy raised a hand as his mouth opened. "Please, let me finish." Wesley reluctantly closed his mouth, leaving unspoken his protestations that no vampire could have a child. "Maybe, just maybe this Sarjhan found Holtz and stole him from the timeline to use against Angel." 

"But Angel lost his soul." This time Wesley did point out the obvious.

"I know," Amy conceded with a nod. "But maybe Holtz was pulled from time as an insurance policy. I've been reading about time, and maybe time isn't a straight line, maybe it's a road with forks in it that cause possible alternate realities. Maybe Angelus was never cursed? Maybe Angel never lost his soul? Maybe Giles was never turned or Buffy Called? Maybe the would-be mother died before she even met Angel? Maybe Holtz is Sarjhan's fallback position if all his other schemes to alter the timeline failed?"

"All this conjecture is very fascinating." In truth, Wesley's head had begun to throb. "But how does this help us?"

"If I'm right," Amy licked her lips, "I think I can find and bring Holtz here."

* * *

"James, Elizabeth," Ripper flashed his politician's smile as the two vampires entered her domain. "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"And yours," James replied. "It was an honour to be summonsed into the service of the world's most brilliant vampire. Almost as much of an honour as it was to be blessed by the love of fair Elizabeth." James beamed. "Is she not the most beautiful creature in creation?"

"Extraordinarily beautiful." Ripper felt his smile grow strained. Angelus had told him of their simpering, but to hear it was sickening. Love was a weakness of the lesser beings, not them. Unfortunately he had need of powerful vampire, and both demons were close to three centuries old.

His attention was thankfully diverted when the club's double-doors crashed open and Angelus and Penn entered, dragging a limp body behind them. Ripper strode over to inspect the captive, a handsome man of medium height with shoulder-length black hair and an athletic, sinewy build. "And who," he looked towards Angelus, "might our guest be?"

Angelus smirked. "This is the man I told you about, Everett Blaine, the Nightstalkers' trainer."

"Oh really?" Ripper beamed. "So pleased," he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the man's head to one side, "to meet you." He sunk his fangs into the man's throat.

He'd barely finished feeding on turning the martial artist when the nightclub's doors once again crashed open. "Well ain't this a party!"

Ripper managed to hide his disdain for the thuggish, heavy-browed man before him. "Lyle Gorch?"

"That I am, sir. Here are my cousins, Death's Bastards." Lyle look over his shoulder. "Jed, Zeke, Bud, Wade, Kurt, Josh, get your behinds in here." Six similar-looking brutes trooped in. "Girl! Get that sweet tush in, ya ain't shy so don't act it!"

"Sure, Lyle." A tall, curvy girl slinked in, drawing appreciative leers from all the male and plenty of the female vampires. The beauty's honey-blonde hair cascaded down from under her grey Stetson to rest on the shoulders of her figure-hugging black and white checked shirt. The shirt's top three buttons were unfastened, uncovering plenty of deep, eye-catching cleavage and was tied off at the bottom revealing inches of taut belly. The young woman's outfit was completed by a pair of knee-length cowboy boots and pair of figure-hugging denim hot-pants.

"Why," Ripper gave the beauty an appreciative look. "Who is this delightful creature?"

"This is my new childe," Lyle smirked. "I picked her up in New Mexico, I call her Death's Bitch, but her name's Tara Maclay."


	12. Chapter 12

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (12/?) **

****

Faith forced his face into an inscrutable mask as she entered the building's well-lit lobby. She knew she looked the bomb, even with her normally free-flowing locks tied up in a bun, her nervous eyes hidden behind a pair of tinted glasses, and her usual biker wear exchanged for a pair of high heels, short black skirt, and matching jacket over a cream white blouse.

She was gambling on so many factors she could hardly keep count. First she was gambling that security was lax on account the vamps would figure you'd have to be dog-shit loco to try and break into the place. Second that no-one recognised her. Third, that despite and because of her looks, none of the demons would dare touch her, figuring she must be the property of Winters. Fourth, that when and if she got to Winters' office she was able to find something to use as a weapon against him. Fifth, that she got out without anyone raising the alarm.

All in all, she was beginning to think she was nuts for even trying this.

"Too late to change my mind now." Faith as she strode into the brightly-lit, mirror-walled elevator, grateful that it was empty.

Her heart fell when a figure stepped into the elevator just about as its gleaming doors were about slide shut. The vampire, a small, rat-faced beady-eyed demon, leered at her. "Hi babe, haven't see you around here before, I know 'cause I'd have noticed you."

Faith tensed as the vampire neared. Her gaze moved to the camera in the upper right corner. "Yeah," she quickly remembered her cover-story. "Last week I was livin' on the street, then Mr. Winters saw me and hired for his personal staff."

"Lucky Mr. Winters," the vampire's leer widened. "Mr. Winters' security is very important to us. I'll have to check you for weapons."

Faith gritted her teeth as the vampire approached. Telling herself she'd endured far worse, she put up with the vampire's clammy hands on her, stroking, squeezing, and groping. But if he showed her just an inch of fang, camera or not, he was dust.

The demon didn't pull away until the doors opened. "No weapons," the vampire smirked. "Just a body that could cause whiplash." The vampire slapped her behind. "The boss gets all the prizes."

Cheeks flushed, Faith hurriedly straightened her clothes before climbing out of the elevator and heading down the corridor, following the directions Lillah had given them. The corridors were plushly decorated with a thick sky blue carpet, minimally furnished reception areas, and wood panelled walls decorated with abstract paintings.

Faith swallowed as she reached a door with a brass plaque with 'Mr. Winters' inscribed on it. After a second she raised her hand to knock, then shook her head before opening the door.

The demon looked up from behind his tidy desk, eyes irritated. "Doesn't anyone knock in this day and-." The vampire's expression changed from irritation to pleasure. "But of course, you don't need to knock. Did personnel send you up?"

Faith forced a meek nod. "Yes, Mr. Winters."

"Excellent, I'll have to send them a commendation. Please," the demon gestured to the empty seat opposite him, "sit down."

"Sure." Faith smiled seductively as she slinked across the office, eyes alighting on the steel letter opener on the desk. As she'd hoped Winters had unwittingly supplied the very weapon she'd use to kill him. Faith leaned over the desk, entrancing the man with her cleavage. Then she scooped up the letter opener and slashed it across the demon's throat. There was a half-second of shocked realisation in his eyes and then he burst into dust.

Faith stared down at the dust settling on the demon's leather-upholstered chair. She stiffened at the sound of the office door opening behind her. Twisting around, she saw a willowy blonde stood in the doorway. "Is Mr. Winters not around?"

"No." Faith schooled her face into a puzzled expression. "Sorry. I've just brought him a load of contracts to sign from Personnel, but no joy." Faith slide past the blonde and strode out. Now all she had to do was get out.

* * *

Virginia Bryce inspected the couple sat opposite. The female of the couple was pretty enough but it was the male who intrigued her. English, well-educated, and eminently knowledgeable about the world's shadowy under-belly. She'd have bet her considerable fortune that he was a Watcher. However his companion couldn't be the Slayer, she didn't match the description in anything except age and gender.

She was more than a little tempted by the standing reward Ripper had offered for the capture of any Watcher. But even more enticed by the mystery just what had brought the Watcher here, to the very edge of Ripper's stronghold. "Mr. Richard Turpin, your credentials seem very impressive. However you haven't told me just why you require our services." 

Instead of answering, the Englishman looked around her office. "A most impressive place you have here. And yet you're so young." Mr. Turpin directed his gaze back at her. "But then your father wasn't expecting to lose the reins of power quite so suddenly."

"If I hadn't killed him he'd have sacrificed -." Virginia's eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you?" 

The Englishman's smile failed to reach his eyes. "I'm sorry, my name's Wesley Whyndham-Pryce and my companion is," the man was interrupted by the door crashing open and a group of youths striding inside, "Amy Madison, a Wicca who has been holding down your mystical defences ever since you lowered them to let us in."

Virginia scowled impotently. "Do you know who I am?" she seethed.

"I think," the Englishman smiled politely, "I've already established that we do. And this gentleman," Wesley pointed towards a pepper-grey haired powerfully-built man leading the interlopers, "is Xander Harris."

Virginia felt the world slow and the colour drain from her face at the mention of the world's most feared resistance leader. "W….what do you want?" she stuttered.

"You're not a witch, but I know your father spent decades collecting every conceivable magical artefact," Amy said. "And I know he bought a Magica Poder Petros in the early nineties. We want it."

"W…what for?" she asked.

"That's not important." Xander smiled coldly. "Is it?"

* * *

"Are you okay?" Jonathan opened the door as his girl-friend approached his car.

"Five by five," Faith replied as she climbed into the car. His girl-friend snorted as he looked at her legs when her skirt shifted up as she sat down. Faith ruffled her hair. "Look I'll keep the outfit if ya like, just drive, hon."

* * *

"'Kay," Faith stared at the strangely pulsing yellow globe sat in the centre of the resistance group's lounge table, their of-course day-light journey back to Sunnydale completed just minutes ago, "you've got my attention. What the hell is this thing?"

"In its simplest terms, it's a magical amplifier," Amy replied. Faith stared bluntly at the witch. That was simple? "A witch or wizard casting a spell can use this to temporarily increase their power by siphoning power off from a number of lesser-power mages. In this case," Amy smiled apologetically, "Wesley, Michael, and Jonathan." 

"And this is to drag this Holtz jabroni through time?" Amy nodded at her query. "'Kay, but how will you know where to find him?"

"I already know around when Holtz was taken. Somewhere in the 1770s-."

"So really specific then," Xander uttered the comment a second before she could.

"I'm not a Time-Lord, Xander," Amy half-smiled then shrugged. "I'll start in '73, after his last recorded encounter with Darla and Angelus, and work from there. Then, when I find a trace of Sarjhan's essence."

"Whoa!" Faith interrupted. "Run that past me again?"

"Every demon has an essence, an unique smell if you want." Faith's brow furrowed and her mouth opened. "Only magic-users can sense them," Amy hurriedly added before continuing her explanation. "And find when he took Holtz. I'll follow his trail, take Holtz and bring him here."

Faith's head began to ache. ""'Kay, but ain't Sarjhan likely to be a little, ya know pissed, at having Holtz taken?"

After a second Amy nodded. "Yes, but he's incorporeal in his current state, so his powers are limited. As long as I avoid a direct confrontation, I should be okay."

"Incorporeal?" Faith asked.

"Non-solid," Wesley supplied. Faith stared at her Watcher, seeking further clarification. "Like a ghost." Faith nodded in understanding. "But what about this Magic-Amplifier? Is it dangerous to use?" Wesley and Amy exchanged troubled glances. "Talk to me?"

"It's not dangerous for those supplying the power," Amy eventually replied. "At worst, the could be burnt out, unable to access magic. But for the person using the power," Amy's face tightened, "if they lose control, the backlash from the combined power could tear them apart."

Risky. Faith looked around the room. Realising everyone was looking at her, she shrugged. "If you think this Holtz is worth it, do it."

* * *

"It burns! Ahhhhhhh! It burns!"

Ripper chuckled as he lay on his bed, his new companion lying in his arms, her hands idly stroking him as he responded in kind. Joy Joy on the other hand was hanging upside down from the ceiling, her body welted and bruised from Tara's enthused ministrations, tears streaking the dead Slayer's face. "You're a rare expert," he complimented the vampire, " a real artist." 

The naked beauty giggled and fluttered her long eyelashes. "Anything to please the mighty Ripper."

Ripper playfully slapped the New Mexican's behind. "You pleased me four times. You're a girl of rare talents"

Tara smiled bitterly . "You wouldn't have said that if you'd met my pre-turning self. What a meek pathetic mouse I was!" 

"Lyle said you were a runaway," Ripper commented for want of something to say.

His companion's nose wrinkled disdainfully. "I was a runaway alright, a runaway from life, my magic, my family, everything." Tara giggled. "But I taught my sweet father the error of his ways."

"Oh really?" Ripper rolled over to face the curvy beauty and began kissing her neck, Joy Joy's sobs ringing like music in his ears. "Do tell?"


	13. Chapter 13

FIC: The Nightstalkers (13/?)

Amy took a calming breath, the Amplifier in her clammy palms as she sat cross-legged in the centre of a triangle drawn in chalk, Jonathan, Wesley, and Michael sat at its points. Apart from them, the room was empty, yet despite that the room's air seemed sparse, as if it was crammed full of people, tension thickening it.

Amy took another breath. "No body will think the less of you if you back out."

Amy smiled at Wesley's concern. His comment however well-meant was incorrect. She'd feel less of her. "Holtz is a renowned demon hunter, we need him." She placed the amplifier between her legs and her hands on her knees. And then she began to chant, the arcane words echoing in the hushed room.

The very moment she finished the enchantment, Amy sensed something above her. Looking up, she saw a greyish white tornado hovering over her head, lightning crackling inside it. And then she felt something pulling from inside her, being sucked into the tunnel. Her mouth opened in shock, but before she could scream, a great darkness enveloped her.

* * *

9th November 1989. Berlin

Amy's eyes widened as her vision cleared to find herself at a huge wall, men and women tearing it down with eager if amateur abandon from either side, armed men standing aside with bemused looks on their faces.

* * *

22nd November 1963, Dallas

Amy's ears throbbed as the crowd boomed out cheers to the passing cavalcade. And then a shot rang out and the man sat waving from one of the open-top cars fell back, blood exploding from his head.

* * *

6th June 1944, France

Amy's eyes filled with tears as she watched, a mixture of horror and pride filling her, her ears pounding to the sounds of gunfire and screaming men as a seemingly endless horde of khaki-wearing men struggled onto the beach, advancing fearlessly into a fearsomely relentless bombardment, no wave, of artillery fire.

* * *

7th September 1901, China

Amy gasped as she watched the city drown in a mixture of chaos, blood, and fire. Fires blazed through the city, buildings falling as Orientals brawled with Occidentals.

* * *

19th November 1863, Pennsylvania

Amy's eyes brimmed with pride as she stood in a cold cemetery and watched a lantern-jawed, bearded man talk of freedom and equality, making the speech that would in essence start the civil rights movement.

* * *

As she watched history's momentous events unfold, Amy gradually realised that she was travelling in Sarjhan's footsteps in a way she'd never dreamed, reliving humanity's momentous triumphs and dreadful defeats. It was a journey that alternatively exhilarated and terrified, but ultimately exhausted her.

Finally the voyage through time came to an end in a dark, forbidding cellar, occupied by a statue. A strangely familiar statue. "Daniel Holtz," she whispered, heart tightening. Yes, she'd finally achieved her goal. But this was one of the most notorious demon-hunters of all time, a man of legendary ruthlessness.

Quelling her terror with an effort, she muttered the final words of the spell, those that completed it.

For a second there was nothing, Amy stared with disappointment at the statue. Then, a slight crack at top that rapidly spread until the statue looked like an earthquake's aftermath. And then it exploded, rock flying everywhere, Amy screaming instinctively even though she was incorporeal.

The man was as terrifying in appearance as his reputation. Holtz was a medium-height man with a lithe muscularity that bristled with ferocious energy, the straggly hair and beard failed to hide a hard-featured face that seemed to be carved from granite far harder than the rock that had encased him, while his grey eyes burnt with implacable fire. "Who are you witch?"

The man's hoarse voice chilled her marrow, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she replied. "I am someone who can take you to a time where you're needed, were Angelus," the man's shoulders stiffened, "is a great power, and were I am a member of the few who continue to resist him and his master."

The man's eyes burnt into her, judging every deed she'd ever done. "Very well," he growled. "Let's go."

* * *

"Hey!" Frederick's eyes widened when he opened the door to find their sensei stood on the doorstep. He bowed respectfully. "Sensei, please come in."

"Thanks!" Frederick gasped as his tutor's eyes flashed yellow, his mouth opened in a scream as the vampire lunged towards him, his hand clenching around his throat and squeezing.

* * *

"Did you hear the screams?" Cordelia looked around.

Xander stiffened as he waited with the others outside of the room Amy was casting her spell in. "Yeah," Xander glanced to Larry. "Lar, go get Faith, she's in the dojo training. The rest of you, guard this room."

Xander swallowed as he charged upstairs, heart pounding as he wondered just what horrors awaited him. Xander's heart wrenched as he entered the hallway, recognising the corpses littering the hallway as Joy, Freddy, and Devon, and their murderer as a now vampire Everett Blaine. Leaping forward, he attempted a kick to the small of the back that his rival spun away from before catching him with a spinning backfist to the back of the neck that caused pain to explode in his head.

"Xander, Xander," Everett taunted. "You didn't seriously think you could take me on?"

"Don't know unless you try," Xander shook his head clear before perfectly executing a thrust kick.

Perfect except against a vampire with Blaine's skills and memories as well as his newly acquired strength and speed upgrades. "Ahhh!" Xander grunted as the demon grabbed his outstretched leg at the ankle while simultaneously sweeping his grounded foot off the floor. "Ugggh." Xander grunted as he fell to the ground, his shoulder taking out a hallway table on the way down. His eyes widened as he saw a foot coming down at him and rolled away, kicking up as he did so.

Upon reaching his feet, he was rocked by a left and right combo that would have taken his head off if he hadn't managed to slightly pull away from them. Then a follow-up leaping kick sent him crashing into the wall, head bouncing off the unforgiving concrete as he slid to the floor. Xander twisted away from a kick to the face, his rival's foot bouncing off the wall as Xander surged up and crashed shoulder-first into the demon. "Oooh," he groaned as the demon twisted with the impact, using the momentum to fling him off and into the opposite wall. Dazed, he nevertheless managed to duck a right to the face.

But was completely unprepared to twist away from the palm strike that smashed into his chest. Lungs heaving and legs buckling, he slid down the wall, tears blurring his eyes as he struggled for every breath he was sure would be his last.

"Nice moves, now do ya wanna try for the majors?"

* * *

Wesley's eyes sprang open, the strength returning to his body as Amy shuddered before him. He gasped as a body materialised beside the young witch. "Oh my god."

"I'll thank you," growled the legendary demon hunter, "not to take the lord's name in vain."

Wesley's lips tugged into a smile as he heard Jonathan's mutter beside him. "Oh him and Faith are just going to be best buds."

* * *

The vampire had barely begun to turn to face her when Faith was on it, a whirlwind of dark hair and darker eyes, hitting it with a blurring flurry of blows. Then she grunted as a fist crashed through her tornado to snap her head back. Biting down the pain, she ducked under a thrust kick to the face, looping an arm around the leg and yanking up.

The demon yelped something indistinct as it fell to the ground, hitting the ground with a thud. Faith raced forward, trying for a stomp that the demon rolled away from before kicking up and connecting with her spandexed-ass, the blow knocking her forward.

And probably leavin' a real embarrasin' bruise that Jonathan would have to kiss better.

A snarl parting her lips, Faith spun to face the vampire and barely managed to duck a spinning backfist. Faith leapt forward, meaning to tackle the vamp around the waist only to get a gasp-inducing knee to the chest instead. Stunned, she weaved towards the demon.

And dropped onto her back as it leapt at her, her feet cannoning into its torso, her body reverberating with the impact as the demon flew across the hall to crash into the far wall. Shaking off her pain, Faith leapt up and raced over to the demon, knocking it back down with a hard uppercut before snatching up a broken table leg and driving it through its chest.

"Faith! Faith! Faith!" Faith turned at Amy's shriek. "We did it! We got Holtz!"


	14. Chapter 14

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (14/?)**

"Who are you?" Holtz snapped as his eyes cleared and he found himself in a strangely designed room surrounded by several youngsters. In a second he was by the group's apparent leader, a bespectacled man in his mid-thirties, his hand grabbing the man around the throat. "Sahjhan? Where is he?"

The man gurgled and tried yank his hand off even as the room's youths lunged at him. Finally they managed to drag him away from the gasping man. A pair of elbows put the two weaklings down and he stared back towards the man lent against the wall. "Wesley Whyndhm-Pryce of The Watchers' Council," the man wheezed.

That brought Holtz up short. This ninny was a Watcher? My, how that once fine group had fallen since-. His brow creased as another thought occurred. "The year? What is the year?" he growled.

The man started at his gruff tone, pathetic really. "It is the year of our lord, two thousand one. You're in America."

"America," he whispered, legs almost giving way under him with the shock. The grand-children of every-one he'd ever known would all be long dead by now. His eyes zeroed in on the Watcher. "The New World? Why am I here?"

"I…I must say it's a great honour to meet you, your accomplishments and methodologies were taught at The Academy." The Watcher straightened up, hand rubbing at his throat. Holtz stared impatiently at his fellow countryman. "We're here, that is in the state of California because my Slayer is hunting Angelus."

"Angelus?" Fire blazed through Holtz's veins. "That murdering bastard is here?"

"Yes," the Watcher started to speak but he didn't bother to continue listening to the whimpering fool's blatherings, instead striding out in search of the Slayer. One could only hope she had more mettle than her Watcher.

* * *

"Angelus!" James beamed at him as he approached James and Elizabeth, the pair of vampires dressed in of course matching denim jeans and shirts. "It is a bloody pleasure to see you and no mistake!"

"And you," Angelus nodded before kissing Elizabeth's proffered hand. He'd have to play up to the duo if he wanted them to aid him in his planned overthrow of Ripper.

"Charmed," purred the blonde.

"And Darla," James looked around, "where is the second loveliest vampire in all creation?"

"Dust," Angelus snarled. "A Slayer got her." He white-washed over his part in his sire's death, the thought just making him want to grab the nearest blonde and spend the night teaching the human the meaning of pain. He hadn't even gotten the satisfaction of Buffy's death to soften the blow, Ripper had sadistically ensured he was never involved in the Slayer's torturing or even saw her after her capture.

"Got Darla!" James' blue eyes widened before looking towards Elizabeth. "Oh Angelus, I can only imagine your pain," the vampire bleated. "To be without the one that makes your existence worthwhile must be-."

"Heart-breaking!" Elizabeth continued. "Your pain must inspire sonnets, move statues to tears!"

"I know mine would!" James finished. "Should I-, no," the twit shook his head. "I can't even say the words."

"My pillow's wet every night." Angelus fought back a groan. The two vampires stared at him, mouths agape. "From crying, not from -, never mind," he shook his head wearily. At the time he'd thought the greatest danger about having this conversation would have been from someone over-hearing and reporting back to Ripper, but he realised he'd been mistaken, he was in far greater danger of staking himself to stop himself from having to listen to the two lovers' insipid drivel.

* * *

Holtz strode impatiently through the house's corridors, impatient to finally have his revenge on Angelus. He stopped as he entered the hallway to find a coal-eyed hussy dressed in lewdly tight leathers, her choice of clothing as unbecoming and unladylike as her apparent manner. Yet despite all that, she had a certain grace that identified her as something more than merely human.

"A tavern strumpet?" he sniffed. "In my time, Slayers were mighty warriors, women worthy of respect. In this time they're nothing but slattern?"

The Slayer looked around, Romany eyes looking confused. "Slattern? What the hell's a slattern?"

"Oh please," the Watcher behind him muttered, "no-body tell her. The blood will be hell to get out of the carpet."

"Oh I know that one from Literature" chirped up a painted blonde who looked like another tavern wench, "of course no one expects you to have read a book, Faith. He's calling you a whore."

"Huh." Holtz felt a chill run through him as the beauty's black eyes turned to ice. "How 'bout yaw tell me who yaw are and why I shouldn't be using your head as a punch bag." Holtz's mouth opened. "Oops, too late." Holtz grunted as the girl's backhand to the face drove him to his knees. The brunette turned from him to the blonde. "Want to call me a whore yourself, Harm?"

Holtz rose and glared at the Slayer, the impudent bitch, not knowing her natural place in the order of things. He wiped away the blood trickling out of the side of his mouth. "I am Daniel Holtz, vampire hunter."

"Huh," the Slayer seemed unimpressed. "After all the shit I'd heard, I'd thought you'd be taller."

"A lady does not use such language," he scolded.

"I thought we'd established I ain't a lady." The brown-eyed beauty's full lips quirked up into a smirk. "'Sides, times have changed, oldster. Women even have the vote now." The midnight-tressed temptress' curved lips rearranged themselves in a pout. "Not that I've actually ever, well yaw get the point."

"Times may have changed," Holtz sniffed as he looked around the carnage, glancing briefly at the corpses. "But they have not changed so much that I would expect a vampire hunter to tamely allow a stranger into their house after dusk." He sniffed again. "An ineffectual Watcher, a slovenly Slayer, and amateurish vampire hunters, no wonder you need help."

"Hey!" snapped a battered-looking youth with streaked-grey hair. "We made a mistake."

"In vampire-hunting your first mistake is most often your last," Holtz retorted before shaking his head. "Ready yourselves, the night is wasting, we may not have a real Watcher," the one called Wesley winced at that, "or a properly-trained Slayer but we fight nevertheless." The girl growled, whatever her faults she had at least spirit.

"Who put you in charge?" the battered boy demanded.

"Your lack of leadership did," he retorted. "Gather your weapons; we leave in quarter of an hour. You," he impaled the Watcher with a steely glare, "tell me more of your world."

* * *

"Ah," Ripper forced a grin as Lyle Gorch entered his inner sanctum, "Lyle, good to see you." Ripper leaned into the vampires and bit her milky neck, tasting her cold blood. The turned witch wriggled in erotic, blissful delight. "I must compliment you on your childe, she really is exquisite."

"Thank you, Ripper." Lyle's eyes burnt as he glanced from Ripper to Tara and back again. Despite his anger the bulky-shouldered vampire was at least smart enough not to voice his irritation at Ripper usurping him as Tara's master. Maybe Ripper wouldn't have to kill him after all.

"I have the horses you requested, seven quite superb stallions."

Interest flickered in Lyle's eyes. "Do you ride?"

"It was a hobby of my youth," Ripper airily replied. His human alter-ego had spent his childhoods on a Welsh farm his family had owned. There hadn't been much to do but ride or muck-out pig shit. He'd chosen riding. "Get your men and ride out. If those meddlers patrol out after the surprise I sent them, I want you to finish them off!"

"Yes sir," the cowboy hesitated, eyes flickering towards Tara.

"Go," he smirked. "Don't worry," he licked the moaning vampires' neck, "I'll take good care of Tara, and I think her fighting days are over."

"But not torturing," the unread New Mexican giggled.

"Of course not dear," he assured the vampire beauty. "A talent such as yours should be nurtured."

* * *

Faith pursed her full lips, worry creasing her beautiful features. "Maybe you should stay out of this one?" his girl-friend suggested, a rare tentative note in her husky voice.

"No," Jonathan for his part had to force an unconcerned note in his. "I should be there." For you, he silently added.

"No," Faith shook her head, brown eyes determined. "You're tired after bringing the asshole," Faith's eyes glittered briefly, "from his prison. You should stay-."

"A Slayer with a lover, demeaning herself like a common tavern harlot!" And just like that, Holtz appeared in the hallway, scorn in his dark eyes. "Where is the legendary Council discipline?"

Faith's jaw clenched, her hair snapping as she spun to face the antiquated demon hunter. "Listen you son of a bit-."

"As I informed you," Wesley appeared by Holtz's shoulder, "the Council has moved on from your days-."

"Moved on?" Holtz snorted. "Been overrun with weaklings and idiots more like!"

Wesley looked like he'd been punched in the gut, but to give him credit the Watcher tried. "Faith's greater independence and ability to think for herself has helped her in situations where a more controlled Slayer might well have perish-."

"And yet," Holtz sniffed, "the world has fallen and Angelus lives."

"Hey!" Faith snapped. "That ain't my fault! I wasn't even Called when that shit went down!"

Holtz strode away, glancing at Xander's group of Xander, Cordelia, Larry, Owen, and Harmony, the others staying behind as security. "Come," the centuries-old soldier snapped. "Let's see if you match up to the lads I once led."

The group made their way out into Sunndyale's darkened streets, the atmosphere even more grimly oppressive than normal, either because of their recent losses or because of the hard-faced angel of vengeance marching with them. Jonathan and Faith were at the head of their patrol, Holtz and Wesley hovering with a varying degrees of menace just behind and Xander and Cordelia at the rear, the others between them, their crossbows at ready in case-.

Suddenly Faith dropped to one knee, her hand reaching out to feel the road's hard tarmac. "What the fuck?" his girl-friend's brow furrowed. "I can feel the ground trembling, what the hell-." Suddenly Faith's eyes widened. "Everyone! Get to cover now!"


	15. Chapter 15

FIC: The Nightstalkers (15/?)

Recognising the tell-tale sound of a cavalry charge, Holtz melted into the shadows. irritated but not particularly dismayed when his companions didn't immediately follow suit. Undisciplined rabble.

* * *

Heart racing, Faith grabbed Jonno by the collar and threw him forward and over the nearest hedge. Shit, Faith realised her mouth was dry and heart hammering like had never done before, caring for people was wicked hard, maybe even harder than not havin' anyone.

Even as that realisation hit, the lead riders burst into sight, the first of them an ugly as sin thickly-built roughneck dressed in a battered Stetson and brown suede jacket. Seeing the vampire's hand coming up from inside his jacket, a gun in hand, Faith dropped into a crouch, leather-clad ass practically touching the cold tarmac, before bounding up, powering through her legs.

Faith flew through the air, body shuddering slightly as she landed on the horse, facing the surprised vampire, legs wrapping around him. "Hey!" Faith greeted as she drove her head into the demon's face, the impact knocking his head back long enough for her to dart out a stake and drive it towards his heart. "Like your ride!"

Except the demon replied with a headbutt of his own, almost knocking her clean off the damn horse. Seeing the demon's gun beginning to turn towards her, she drove her stake down and through his forearm. "Aaaaaaah!" the demon grunted as her stake tore through flesh, gun dropped to the ground. "You bitch!"

Faith grunted as the demon's free fist crashed into the side of her head. Ignoring the bludgeoning blow, she released her hold on her stake and jammed her thumb deep into the demon's eye, ignoring her slight queasiness at the way his eye squished and squelched under her onslaught. While the demon writhed in agony, she snatched out another stake and drove it into her adversary's heart. "Fuck you, asshole!" she victoriously shouted.

Then she belatedly realised she was sitting backwards on a horse with no actual idea how to ride. "Ah fuck!"

Suddenly the horse was leaping the hedge she'd thrown Jonathan behind, her rising boyfriend dropping back down as her horse's hooves cleared the far side. "Shit! Shit!" Faith screamed as the out of control steed bolted across the city park, its frenzied panting and whinnying only adding to her concern. She was strictly a city girl, her idea of riding didn't involve horses. Looking over her shoulder, she saw they were heading towards a tree with low-hanging branches and ducked, bending at the waist until her nose was practically touching horse ass.

And that wasn't even close to the most embarassin' position she'd managed to find herself in.

Her hands flew up to grab the branch and push off the horse before gliding into a 360 that would have made an Olympic gymnast green with envy before landing and charging back towards the fight, long legs eating up the distance and full mane flowing behind her.

* * *

Xander stared up at the charging horses and leapt at the nearest vampire only to catch a kick to the face that knocked him to the ground. The wind knocked out of him and his head ringing from the collision with the ground, he barely had enough left to roll out of the following horses' hooves.

And then Holtz stepped out of the shadows, a disgusted look on his face. His pistol-crossbows came up, two vampires bursting into dust a half-second later. Then the legendary demon-hunter was unsheathing his sword, arcing it up in an impossibly graceful slash, blood spurting from the nearest horse's neck as it reared up, pitching its rider to the ground.

In an instance Holtz was on the felled vampire, his blade slicing through its throat before it had chance to move. Holtz looked up through a dust-cloud, instinct sending him twisting out of the way of a leaping demon, his blade slicing up to likewise take that demon's head too.

Another rider, discarding Xander as a threat, started to turn his horse to face Holtz. Leaving his back open to a flung stake to the heart.

And then that was it, the demons dead, their horses bolting up the road.

Xander's relieved laugh died when he noticed Larry lying unmoving on the ground, his sightless eyes staring up at the dark sky. "Larry!" Xander raced over and knelt down by his friend's corpse, wishing that he could deny the evidence of his eyes, the pale, bloodless sheen to his friend's skin, the impossible angle at which his neck hung, and the dimness of his eyes. The pain of failure pressed down on his chest, making it nigh impossible to breathe.

"As I thought," Holtz glared down at him, the night's drizzle sliding off his leather trenchcoat and growling tone filled with scorn, "incompetent." The vampire hunter shook his head and looked towards Wesley. "He I can understand, he is but a boy. But you are a Watcher! Does that mean nothing anymore?"

"Hey," suddenly Faith was there, the Slayer's eyes darker than death, "you can't-."

"Please Faith," Welsey stepped between the advancing Slayer and her intended target, his shoulders slumping under defeat's heavy weight, "now is not the time."

"Let's go back to the house," Holtz sniffed. "I will learn nothing else here."

* * *

Xander shook his head as he strode into the darkened bedroom he shared with Cordy, a deep depression crushing his chest, his mind filled with images of Larry's corpse and of the others that Blaine had butchered. The corpses of all those he'd failed dating back to Jesse and Ms. Calendar soon joined them, a veritable crowd before him. "Maybe Holtz was right," he mumbled.

"Oh please," Cordelia spat, from behind him, the door slamming as his girl-friend back-heeled it, "you're going to let Mr. Two Centuries Ago take the group away from you?"

Xnader turned to face his girl-friend. "Generally, he just answers to Holtz."

Cordelia shook her head. "Don't try your unfunny lines on me, Dweeb!" His girl-friend lowered her voice. "If 'Holtz' is this great hunter, why did he spend years chasing Angelus and fail, even with the Vatican behind him? And then, what does he do? He gives up and partners up with a demon!" Cordy sniffed. "He's no great shakes."

Xander looked at her, a half-smile on his weary face. "I'm better?"

Cordy held her thumb and forefinger about two inches apart and smirked. "About that much better."

Xander's smile widened slightly. "Always gotta come to you for the votes of confidence." His smile died again as he recalled Holtz's actions earlier. "But did you see him? He cut through the vampires like a knife through butter!"

"Oh grow up," Cordelia's dark eyes blazed with the sort of fury that had been known to scatter freshmen. "You're the glue that's held us together for years! You didn't just lead the Nightstalkers, you started the Scooby Gang too! And we've had a lot more than just Angelus to deal with! You're our leader, not some broody-boots! Get it together."

* * *

"Ya gonna let him talk to ya like that?"

Wesley started at his Slayer's unusually soft voice in the doorway behind him, but didn't turn to face her. His Slayer? He chuckled dourly, only a twisted combination of nepotism, chance, and murder had caused that event to happen. Lord knows, he'd tried to live up to the task no matter the circumstances.

And lord knows how much he'd failed.

He curled up into a semi-ball as he sat on the edge of his bed, his father's sneering face flashing before him. "Hey!" Faith snarled behind him. "Stop bitchin' and turn and face me! Jesus," the Slayer continued, "I thought your balls had finally dropped!"

Wesley turned to face the naggingly insistent brunette. "I can only," he swallowed, choking back his tears, "only apologise for not being the Watcher you deserve. I'll of course resign so that Holtz can take over."

Pain and hurt flooded the dark-eyed bombshell's orbs. "I thought we were a team," the normally braggadocios Slayer sounded for all the world like a hurt child. "I thought you had my back."

Wesley blinked. She still wanted him? "I…I do, but you should have the best Watcher-."

"I..I," for once the assured Slayer seemed lost for words. "I've never had a guy in my life who didn't try to take advantage. I…I wouldn't wanna lose that."

"Then," Wesley forced a smile. As always his Slayer had to come before his own concerns. "You shall not. I am as always at your service and shall endeavour to do my very best."

"Jeez," the Slayer smirked at him even as she theatrically rolled her eyes, " no need to get all wordy 'bout it!"

* * *

"Daddy's dead!" Tara's rage caused the vampire who'd brought the news to burst into flames. "I'll kill them, I'll kill them all!" the demoness screamed herself hoarse. "Dead! Dead! Dead!"

"Yes dear," Giles murmured as he placed a comforting kiss on his paramour's forehead. Already he was planning his next move, deciding which force to move into action against the remaining Nightstalkers next. "We'll see them dead, but not before they've suffered a while."

* * *

"Death's Bastards dead?" Angelus began to chuckle, chest heaving with rare humour. Another obstacle to his eventual rise removed. This new bitch of a Slayer was having a most beneficial effect on the Nightstalkers. This didn't mean he wouldn't kill her of course, but as with most things it was simply a matter of timing.

And he'd always had the most immaculate timing.

His laugher continued to echo around the deserted room.

* * *

The convertible purred effortlessly through Sunnydale's darkened streets, the city's inhabitants too smart to be out after lights out. As a result the car was on its own, the interior deathly silent although drenched in the blood of the honeymooners he'd slaughtered to take possession of the car.

"Ah, the Hellmouth," his nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. A new land to conquer, to become hell's guardian, what an honour.

But first he would have to see to the notorious Ripper.


	16. Chapter 16

**

* * *

**

FIC: The Nightstalkers (16/?)

As she approached the gym she could hear the sound of fist and foot hitting heavy bag, the breathless grunts of the exerciser, and the bag's iron chain rattling as it swung. Faith peered through the doorway, a smile tugging on her lips as she saw her honey, before striding through, hips swinging saucily. "Hey, stud."

Jonathan started at her deliberately huskily seductive purr. "Hey," her boy-friend's face reddened at her stalking approach, Faith grinning inwardly. Damn, he was so predictable, sweet though. "I figured I'd get some time on in the heavy bags," he explained.

"Never can get enough trainin'," Faith agreed as she came to a stop a few feet from Jonathan. There was somethin' off about him, somethin' different, cautious, no he was always cautious, the word was wary, yeah wary. "But I figured we could get our own sorta exercise," Faith wriggled her eyebrows, "if you know what I mean?

"I thought we should maybe," Jonathan momentarily looked down at his sneakers before glancing up, the short boy having trouble meeting her eyes, and not for the usual reason either, "slow down."

"Slow down?" Faith's ebony eyes narrowed. Guys always wanted, no expected, her to speed up, but Faith reminded herself that Jonathan wasn't 'xactly the usual sort she went for. But then he'd been reserved with her ever since the whole mess with the Deputy Mayor. "Look," Faith tried for diplomatic, never a good look on her. Mainly 'cause she was the shits at it. "I know it was a major thing killin' Finch," Jonathan half-flinched, "but he was a bad guy, a major part of why this town is the way it is. You can't get hung up on that."

"I…it's not that," Jonathan licked his lips, his eyes not meeting hers and not for the usual reason either, his eyes were strictly fixed on his feet.

Faith counted to five before continuing. 'Kay it was the shyness thing, she could handle that. "Look, I know you ain't 'xactly experienced." She resisted the urge to shake her head when Jonathan flinched again. All she'd said was the truth. "But that's cool by me, I've got the experience for the both of us," she tilted her head to one side and smirked, "I'll steer you around the curves. After all, how many guys can say their first time was with a babe like me?"

"Ah," Jonathan's blushed deepened even more. "That's not it. It's…."

"Come on," Faith prodded with a patience she didn't feel, "I'm outta guesses."

"Harmonysaidagirllikeyouwouldneverbeinterestedinmeforlong!"

Faith's brow furrowed as she took a moment to translate Jonathan's nervous babble. "A girl like me?" she queried. "What the hell is that 'posed to mean?" Before Jonathan could answer she continued, on a mother-fuckin' tear she was. "Heh, that bitch might be the only gal whose seen more action than I have! She practically screams bimbo whore, but you think she should tell us if our relationship's goin' anywhere?" Faith's temper snapped. "If you're so dumb as to fall for whatever crap Harmony sells you, you ain't the nice smart guy I thought I was gettin'!" Jonathan's mouth opened, but she continued over him. "You can go to hell! Hey, you listen to cheerleaders so much, how about you try and get yourself one, 'cause you are DUMPED!"

Faith spun on her heel and strode out, desperate to get away from Jonathan before her resolved mask cracked and the hurt poured out. She'd thought he was different, a sweet guy who could actually feel somethin' for someone with her grubby past. Instead he was just like all the rest, another disappointment to add to the long list.

Faith forced back tears as she strode up the stairs leading from the gym and into the corridor leading to the living quarters. She wasn't goin' to cry, she promised fiercely. She didn't do tears. 'Specially not over a loser like Jonathan.

"Faith," Harmony stepped out of one of the rooms to purr, eyes filled with malice, "I do hope you feel alright? You're looking ill, I wouldn't want you to come down with anything."

Harmony jumped as Faith's elbow snapped to the left, the blow denting and cracking the wall's plaster. "Feelin' a lot better now, Harm," she lied. "But if I ever feel the need to hit somethin' I'll come looking for you, dealio?" Faith was past the paling cheerleader before she had chance to respond, out of the corridor and into her room.

It was only after the door slammed shut behind her she gave in and allowed the tears to flow.

* * *

He gasped and wheezed as he raced through the park, conscious of the demons trailing him, one behind, one to the left, and one to the right. Sweat beaded down his face as he staggered, stumbled and righted himself, arms wildly wind-milling as he lost all semblance of a running style in his ragged, exhausted state. He intuitively knew with the prey's instinct that his hunters were herding him and when they had him where they wanted, they'd take him.

Knew but was helpless to do anything about it.

Suddenly he heard a strangled cry from the monster to his left, heard a screech and a pop.

Then a leather-clad goddess swept past and behind him. Parker tried to turn to see what was happening, but his blazing with lactic acid legs chose exactly that moment to betray him, pitching him to the ground in an ungainly heap.

What he saw was definitely worth the fall. The girl was about five five with a curves in all the right places body encased in a dark as the night silk blouse and matching skin-tight leather pants. Layered midnight tresses bounced as the brunette beauty danced in and out of her two attackers' blows, the previously sublimely graceful monsters now seeming clumsy in comparison.

And then she was ducking left and right, a piece of wood slamming into the chest of the demon to her right as her cowboy-booted foot snapped out to the left, doubling up the vampire stood there. In the same, gracefully effortless move, the woman spun around and drove her weapon through the back of the demon, it following the others into dust.

His heart caught as she spun to face him, her glossly locks contrasting wildly with her flawless, milk-white skin, dark eyes so luminous, and full, red lips parted in a smirk. "Hey," she husked, sticking her hand, "saw you were having problems. I'm Faith, you?"

He grinned as the girl pulled him to his feet. His night was looking up already. "Parker, Park Abrams. Thanks for that. Say," he affected a helpless look, "I don't suppose you've somewhere I can stay?"

* * *

Holtz waited until the 'Nightstalkers', he sniffed disdainfully at the childish name, before creeping down to their gym, picking the lock to the gun cabinet with pathetic ease. He stared with interest at the guns racked there. Although a former soldier, the guns of his time had been far less sophisticated in his days. "Let's see how you like these, Angelus," he chuckled before lifting out one of the shotguns, fingers dancing lovingly over its polished finish, "bullets might not kill you, but they'll hurt you yes. They'll hurt so very much."

"Hey, what are you doing in here?" Holtz glowered at the voice. Placing the shotgun down, he turned to face the interloper, a guileless smile replacing the scowl as he nodded at the young man he recognised as 'Larry'. "I am merely inspecting the weapons, not to mention marvelling at this time's ingenuity."

"Well," the burly youth ambled over to him, "Xander doesn't like people messing with the-, ahhh!" the boy's lecture turned to a gurgle when Holtz drove the point of his elbow into his throat. His face purpling, the boy doubled-up into a face-lock, Holtz cinching his arm tightly around the boy's neck and holding the youth there until his struggles died out. Then Holtz released his hold, the unconscious youth slumping to the gym floor. Holtz grabbed his shotgun and stepped over the youth's motionless body. He had a holy mission, a mission given to him from God, and no one was going to get in his way.

Tonight, Angelus died.

* * *

"The Bronze," he muttered as he pulled his purloined car to a halt outside the former club. "Ripper's headquarters." He smiled at the music roaring out of the club. "Sounds like quite a party, I always like crashing them."

* * *

Ripper stiffened as the door opened and a man strode in, the club falling instantly silent, dancers stopping, and even feeding pausing. The man who'd entered looked to be in his mid forties, a short but thickly muscled man with brown skin and straggly, shoulder-length grey hair, his predatory grey eyes flanking a hooked nose.

Of course it wasn't a man, that much was immediately obviously, the amount of power crackling off the jeans and t-shirt wearing vampire was enough to make the hairs on the back of Ripper's neck prickle.

"An old one," Tara licked at his ear lobe, "a strong one, from times long long ago."

"Yeah, I know," Ripper rose from the upper floor couch he, Tara, and Joyce had been 'enjoying' themselves on with a languid grace, concealing his worry, "always a pleasure to have guests," he greeted as he strode down the stairwell and onto the hushed dance floor, "even uninvited ones." He paused. "Now my name's Ripper, and this," he looked around the club, "is my gaff." His gaze returned to the shorter vampire. "What's your name, mate?"

The vampire flashed him a sly smile that just got his hackles to rise. "I've had many names, but you can call me Sekhmet."

Sekhmet. Ripper forced away the icy finger sliding up his backbone. Sekhmet was one of Il Primo Helluos, one of the legendary vampires that pre-dated even the likes of Lothos, the Master, and Kakistos. According to all the records that he'd been able to find, Sekhmet even pre-dated the ancient Egyptians, putting his age at at least five thousand years. "No aging?" Ripper commented for wont of anything else to say.

Sekhmet smiled. "A simple glamour," the vampire explained. "Allows me to move around the cattle without them realising." The Egyptian vampire chuckled. "As for this being your gaff, well you've built a fine operation here, and what you did to Wolfram & Hart, sheer genius." The vampire suddenly vamped out. "But I'm the senior vampire here now boy."

Ripper didn't bother with an answer, leaping at his challenger. He gasped as the demon grabbed his arms as the elbows and twisted at the waist and flung him into a near-by pillar. Ripper grunted as his back crashed into the unyielding stone support, the force of the collision cracking it.

Ripper gasped as pain roared through his spine, but sucked it up in time to kick out at Sekhmet as he swooped in. The Egyptian vampire sidestepped his attack, but gave Ripper the split-second he needed to reach his feet.

Grasping a bottle off a near-by table, Ripper slammed it into the side of his rival's head. Sekhmet stumbled back a step then charged back in, his knee coming up to catch Ripper in the ribs.

Ripper grunted as the blow connected, ignoring the resulting pain to hook an arm around the leg, holding it to his body as he rammed a trio of fast right hooks into his rival's face, his adversary's head snapping to the side after each blow. Sekhmet fell away as Ripper threw a fourth hook, hitting the ground on his shoulders and rolling up.

Ripper met the demon with a thrust kick to the chest that the middle- eastern demon swayed around. Ripper gasped as the demon grabbed his ankle, but reacted instantly, swinging his grounded leg up to kick the demon in the chest.

Sekhmet released his grounded foot as he stumbled forward, leaving Ripper to crash to the ground and roll up, right into a straight right to the jaw. Ripper growled as he tasted his own blood, ducking under the Egyptian's spin-kick and leaping forward, attempting a wrestling takedown.

"Arrrgh!" He growled when Sekhmet drove an elbow between his shoulder-blades, pain flaring through his arms as he crashed into the smaller vampire. Sekhmet grabbed him under his arms and flung him from him, Ripper hitting the dusty ground on his back, and rolling away from the Egyptian's attempted stomp. The moment he reached his feet Ripper charged back into the fight, leading with a flurry of fists, elbows, knees, and feet that occasionally contacted, but all too often found air.

And then Sekhmet grabbed his wrist and judo-threw him face-first into a pillar. "Oh bollocks," Ripper groaned as his opponent followed that up with a knee to the back. Feeling his adversary's arm curling around his neck, probably in an attempt to snap his neck for an easy staking, Ripper pushed off the pillar.

Sekhmet stumbled back a step, adjusted, and flung Ripper from him. Ripper grunted as he fell onto the green-baized pool table, but rolled with it, allowing momentum to carry him to the pool cue stand. Grabbing a cue, he twisted to face Sekhmet, and flung the cue through the ancient vampire's chest, smirking slightly as he burst to dust.

"Any one else got a problem with my leadership?" Ripper growled as he looked truculently around, hiding his weary pain behind bravado. He smirked when no-one moved. If Angelus was here, it might be different, that bastard would be in like Flynn, but the rest of these cowards….

He swayed slightly as he turned to the steps and started back to where his women were. Time for a little fun now.

* * *

Angelus chuckled as he watched life pass by from the shadows. The hurrying humans desperate to be out of the darkness, to be safe, not knowing that at any moment he could strike. It was just a case of finding one that caught his fancy for whatever reason – be it attractiveness, potential as a childe, or best of all, sweet innocence. But at the moment the pickings were thin, perhaps it would be wise to move to somewhere else. The hospital, he smiled, one could always find a pretty nurse to while a few hours away with.

He started through the town, glorying in his senses. Life on the Hellmouth was so vibrant and full of flavour. Soon he was striding past the Expresso Pump, the shop having closed long ago as most businesses did these days.

"Hello Angelus."


	17. Chapter 17

FIC: The Nightstalkers (17/?)

Angelus' blood chilled as he recognised the unmistakable rasp. He slowly turned to face his thought long-dead nemesis. "How?"

"Magic, how else?" The Victorian vampire-hunter flashed the coldest smile. "But this is the age of technology," Holtz swung his leather jacket to one side, "and I like this technology the best."

Angelus' eyes widened as he saw the muzzle of a shotgun swing up from inside the trenchcoat. The quiet night was split by the shotgun boom as Angelus flung himself to the left and behind a car. "I'd like to know!" Angelus giggled to himself as he hid behind a rusted CV's rear window. "Was your Caroline a wriggler when she was with you too? Woman was like a fish, all that flapping around."

"Godless bastard!"

Angelus leapt to his feet at Holtz's anguished shout, the demon-hunter's bellow telling him the man was to his left, so Angelus cut to the right, long strides quickly building up a distance between him and the notorious vampire-hunter. "Be seein' you, Holtz!"

"Aaaaaaah!" The shotgun's boom once again shattered the night. Angelus fell to his knees, pain blazing through his back where the white-hot shot had shredded it. "Ya bastard!" He snarled as he forced the pain down, rose and started to run again, agony accompanying his every step. His head swam as he this time weaved left and right to make it harder for Holtz to shot him again.

Holtz back. And he'd thought this firecracker of a Slayer was causing them with problems. Things had gotten complicated.

* * *

Wesley swallowed nervously as he entered the gym to see his glistening Slayer dancing between the gym's several heavy bags, her attacks blurring as she hit them with a variety of punches, elbows, knees, and kicks before moving onto the next, doing an entire circuit of the bags, and then returning to the first before it had time to stop swinging. Faith at any time was a formidable opponent, but when she was as focussed as this, she became the true Slayer, a seemingly unstoppable force of nature. "Faith, may we talk?"

The Slayer pirouetted gracefully before half back-flipping and half cart wheeling out of swinging bags to land by his feet. "Yeah Wes?" The perspiring Slayer grabbed her towel hanging off a weight rack and began dabbing her mid-section down.

Which was rather distracting given her curvaceous nubility and the relative scantiness of her dark black lycra sports bra and matching spandex gym shorts. "Yes, well," Wesley felt the colour rise in his cheeks at the Slayer's knowing wink as she let out a moan and starting rotating the towel around her undulating -.

Wesley determinedly looked away from his Slayer and towards the wall behind her. "I understand that you and Jonathan have had a falling out?"

Wesley felt the temperature drop about thirty degrees. "That ain't none of your damn business."

"On the contrary," Wesley forced his eyes back to his Slayer. Or more specifically her dark, luminous eyes. "Your happiness is very much my concern."

"Look," the always defiant ingénue put her hands on her hips and glared at him, "I'm still Slayin' ain't I? Didn't I get three vampires just last night?"

"Yes," Wesley conceded with a nod, "but your effectiveness isn't what is worrying you, your happiness is."

Faith shook her head. "None of your business," the brunette started past him only to stop when he grabbed her arm. Faith looked at him, eyes burning through him. "How many fingers am I gonna have to break to make you let go?"

"Damn it, you impossible girl!" Wesley's temper snapped at the less than subtle threat. "We've been through too much for me not to care about you!"

"No, no, no," there was now something close to panic in the Slayer's eyes, "you can't!"

"Of course I do," Wesley shook his head. "After all the things we've been through, the demons I've seen you best, I can't help but feel proud of you and proud of my own small part in assisting you." Faith's mouth opened and shut not unlike a goldfish's. "You've accomplished so much, vanquished so many formidable demons. You deserve a little bit of happiness for however long you are fortunate enough to be afforded it. I believe Mr. Levinson did make you happy."

"He was just a distraction wasn't he!" Faith snapped. "Got in the way of the Slay."

"Faith," it was a temptation to throw his hands up and walk away, leave the Slayer to her rage. Except she was more than a Slayer to him, he cared too deeply for the vibrant, spirited young woman for it to be just that, and he didn't want this rage to engulf her, burn her up until nothing else remained inside. "Faith, I believe what makes us fight on when things seem hopelessly desperate are not from within but without."

"Eh?" Faith stared blankly at him.

Wesley sighed. "What makes us fight, hang on when all seems lost, is what we have to hold onto. Someone whose life is empty of anything but pain will not fight to live like a person who has things or people to live for."

"So you're sayin' having stuff outside Slaying would make me a better Slayer?"

By jove, I think she's got it. "As long as this 'stuff' isn't too distracting or harmful in any way," Wesley nodded even as he got the image of his father doing cartwheels in his grave.

Faith's mouth opened then shut, the Bostonian temptress shaking her head. "Don't matter," the dark-haired beauty decided. "Jonathan didn't want us, he was too busy listenin' to Harmony talk shit."

"Good lord girl!" Wesley snapped. How could someone so intelligent at the same time be so bloody dense? "You are both very sexually experienced and a very beautiful young woman. Jonathan is neither-."

"Good job," Faith muttered, "I only drive stick."

How earthily delightful, Wesley shook his head even as colour rose in his cheeks. "T..that's not what I meant, you bloody girl," he snapped before calming himself. "Jonathan is not an experienced young man, unused to any woman's attention, especially one as attractive as yourself." Wesley scratched his head, good lord this bloody conversation was embarrassing, he was just grateful the girl already knew about the birds and bees.

Probably knew considerably a lot more than he did to be brutally honest.

"So?" his surly charge prompted.

Oh why did he bother? "So, it's to be expected that a youth as sheltered as Jonathan be over-awed by the attentions of such a beautiful young lady as yourself. As the experienced one in your relationship, it's your responsibility to help allay his fears, show him that Harmony's talking 'shit'."

"Maybe he ain't worth the trouble," Faith sulkily commented.

Wesley reigned in his temper with an effort, secure in the knowledge that losing his temper with the feisty brunette accomplished exactly nothing. "That's for you to decide of course, however I'd suggest your current attitude suggest that somewhere inside you, you think he is indeed worth the trouble." Determined to avoid the almost inevitable explosion that would follow his lecture, Wesley spun on his heel and strode out.

Well fled, but there are often times that dignity has to take second place to prudence.

* * *

Faith shook her head as she bustled through the resistance building. What the fuck did Wussley think giving her lectures about sex? Like he was such a fuckin' expert! None of his goddamn business.

Yeah, a nice long shower that'd cool her off.

"Hey Faith, I never said thanks for before."

Faith stopped and turned, smiling slightly at the man leant on the wall to her left. Now Parker Abrams, Faith just bet he knew how to use his equipment. "Think you did," she replied as she turned to face him, hand on her hip and the chest of her sweat-plastered, gym vest casually pushed out.

Parker looked her up and down like a desert traveller who'd just found his oasis. "No, not properly." Parker flashed her grin. "Maybe we could go to your room, discuss how I could show my appreciation."

Faith started to grin then shook her head. "No," she replied. Jonathan wasn't all head-long charge to the bedroom, but Parker, he was just like all the rest, all the other guys who just wanted to nail a sweet piece of tail. "Thanks for the offer, but I got someone."

"That nerd?" Parker threw his head back and started to laugh.

"Hey!" In a second Faith had her hand around Parker's throat, lifting him off the ground. "That nerd has been risking his life fighting vampires for years while you've been screwin' around like a dog on heat, have a little fuckin' respect!" She dropped the youth. "You say anythin' to Johnny, and me and you are gonna have words, you dig?" The boy nodded sullenly. "Wicked, I'm sure we'll all get along fine now."

Turning on her heel, she walked off. Shower first then she'd have to find Jonathan. Or, she smirked, find Jonathan and then shower. Yeah, that sounded more fun….

* * *

Gunn groaned as the door slammed open and he heard Holtz enter. Seeing Larry rising and start towards the lounge, he stepped between the former football star and the entrance, his back to the door. "Be cool man, let Xander deal."

The lounge door swung open and the bearded demon-hunter glared in. "Get your equipment together. Tonight Angelus dies!"

"No one's going anywhere," Gunn pushed Larry back even as he met the centuries out of time warrior's gaze. "Cool it. Not without Xander's say-so."

Holtz's nose turned up. "You think to give me orders, boy?"

"I think," Gunn turned to face the shorter man, glaring down at him. "You call me boy again and I'm gonna be dancin' on your head, that's what I think."

Holtz sneered up at him, apparently unimpressed by his warning before looking past him into the hushed lounge. "Get your weapons it's time we put an end to Angelus and his

cohorts!"

"No-body's going anywhere." Gunn heaved a relieved sigh at the sound of Xander's voice. If the lounge was hushed before, now it was graveyard silent. "And me and you need to talk about who is in charge here."

"You think you are worthy to lead?" Holtz sneered.

* * *

Faith nodded as she saw Cordy heading towards her. "Hey, C, ya seen Jonathan around? I kinda got a itch I'd like him to scratch."

"No and 'ew!" Cordy's nose wrinkled. "You've got to come quick, Holtz's back and Xander's gone to confront."

"Ah hell!"

* * *

Xander stared at the legendary vampire-hunter, a cold finger of fear itching up and down his spine. For all of that, Xander stared evenly at the older man. "Put that gun down and we'll find out."

"As you wish," Holtz smiled suddenly, the gun dropping from his hands as he lunged at Xander.

"Ah!" Xander grunted as he slid inside a right only to catch a kick to the shin. Pain blazed through his leg as he stumbled forward, just managing to block a right hook on his arm.

His right hand came up, grabbing the vampire-hunter by his jacket and yanking him forward, his head driving down to crash into the 18th century man's face.

At least that was the plan, instead Holtz swung an arm up, blocking his assault on his forehead while driving a knee up and into Xander's gut.

The air gusted out of Xander's lungs but instead of doubling up he fell backwards, slumping into the wall behind, a quickly-delivered uppercut snapping his head back. Xander growled as Holtz smirked at him, twisting out of the way of the time-traveller's body-shot and crashing a retaliatory elbow into the side of his adversary's head. The demon hunter twisted at the waist towards him, Xander knocking the surprise off his face with a right to the jaw.

Blood sprayed the wall as Xander's fist collided with the vampire-hunter's mouth. Holtz swayed beneath his follow-up left and swung a wild right that Xander slapped aside before driving a knee up at the Englishman's crotch only to be blocked on his thigh. Xander stepped into the man, taking a left in his stomach as pre-payment for jamming a thumb into the vampire-hunter's left eye.

"Aaaah!"

The moment the demon hunter's hands instinctively moved up to cover his face, Xander smashed a left hook into the side of his head while kicking his legs from under him. Xander stared down dispassionately at his downed rival. "These are my people, not yours."

* * *

Faith whistled as she watched the fight end. "Ya know C, I don't think Xan needs my help," she glanced at the cheerleader, "well not unless you're still playin' the ice-maiden card," she needled. "I could help with that-." Faith grinned as the cheerleader's hardening face then scowled as she noticed something. "Gotta scoot."

Leaping forward, she grabbed Holtz's wrist as he reached for an ankle-sheathed knife, the demon-hunter grunting as she effortlessly twisted his arm up his back. "Nice moves, Xan," she praised, "only next time, watch your back." Faith glanced around the crowded hallway. "Everybody out, me and Holtz are gonna have words."

* * *

By the time Angelus returned to the Bronze he'd mostly healed, courtesy of a very accommodating pre-teen out walking his dog that he'd fed upon. However his shock at the return of Holtz remained unabated. "Ripper!" he roared as he pulled the former night-club's door open. "We've got trouble-." His voice trailed off as he belatedly registered the ash-grey pentagram adorning the floor and the black-robe, bronze-masked figure knelt at its centre, Ripper standing by the pentagram, the club otherwise uncharacteristically empty.

"This," Ripper shot him that most unGileslike smirk he'd become used to over the past few years is, "is Vocah."


	18. Chapter 18

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (18/?)**

The room cleared at her growl, Xander last to go with a burning look at the eighteenth century demon hunter before leaving. The moment the hallway was empty, Faith released her grip and stepped back. "You need to cool down."

Holtz rose and turned to face her, his face hard. "Do not think to put hands on me again, wench. I will not permit it from the likes of you."

Likes of you? What the fuck did that mean? Quelling the instinct to find out just how many bones she could break with a single punch, Faith shook her head. "You ain't thinkin'," she pressed. "We've got a real team here, you've got the smarts and the experience. You could be a real asset-."

"I do not need advice from a cheaply-dressed harlot!" the chauvinistic man snapped.

"You need advice from someone, 'cause this clearly ain't working." Faith gritted her teeth. "Look, I know you're this shit-hot vampire hunter, and that's great, 'cause with all the vampires we're facing, your help is really appreciated, but you can't go lone wolf around here, that'll get you killed real -."

"And who do you think you are?" the man sneered. "I will tell you what I think you are!"

"I wouldn't advise that," Faith murmured as her temper frayed

"A cheaply-dressed, profane hussy who pays more attention to chasing men than to chasing vampires!" the time-traveller snapped. "Do not think to lecture me on my behaviour when you conduct yourself like a tavern whore!"

"Kay!" Before the man had chance to react, Faith grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall, holding him a good foot off the ground. "That's enough!"

"Unhand me!" the man's eyes bulged as he grabbed her wrists and vainly tried to pull them loose.

"Not until I've finished," Faith replied. "You're here now, whatever bargain you had with Sardine or whatever the hell that demon prick is called is over. And just for notes, what sorta bone-headed bastard makes a deal with a demon and expects it to end well?" Faith shook her head, that wasn't important now. "Whatever, you're here now. This is how things are gonna be, you're gonna work with us, be part of the team. And you're gonna be welcome." Her eyes hardened to ebony stone. "But if you fuck around and get any of us hurt or killed because of your Lone Ranger shit, I'll come lookin' for ya, ya dig?"

"I dig," the demon hunter snarled as she lowered him to the ground and released her grip. "And understand this, I will not allow anything to get in my vengeance! The lord has delivered me here to vanquish Angelus, and vanquish him I shall!" With that Holtz spun on his heel and strode away.

"With some people, you can try and try," Faith shook her head as she cast a look after the departing vampire hunter. "They just won't freakin' listen. Annoyin' that."

* * *

"I'm glad you agreed to come out," Wesley smiled nervously at his companion as they sat down at one of the Expresso Pump's outside tables.

Amy smiled back at him, his own nerves reflected in her eyes. "I'm glad I came out too." Amy's eyes suddenly darkened as she looked down at the dirty pavement. "If only to escape the mess my spell created."

"Come now," Wesley reached across the table and squeezed the young witch's hand. "You have nothing to reprove yourself for. You brought us a legendary fighter through time at great risk to yourself. What you did was exceptionally brave and resourceful. If it goes wrong," he shrugged. "One should remember not only your motivations and efforts, but that the failure wasn't yours, you succeeded in what you attempted, but was caused by Holtz's mulish idiocy."

Amy smiled wanly. "Thank you."

"Quite alright," he enjoyed the moment's comfortable silence. "And thank you again for agreeing to come out with me."

"I'm enjoying it," Amy nodded. "A chance to be away from all the gloomy talk of vampires, away from all the danger."

"Oh," Wesley felt his face fell. Was that the only reason she'd agreed?

Amy suddenly smiled impishly. "A chance to be alone with a handsome, learned older man."

"I'll leave as soon as he gets here," Wesley deadpanned even as his heart leapt.

"Thank you." Amy nodded soberly before giggling. The witch's face sobered. "Is Faith alright? Everyone heard about her and Jonathan…."

"I've tried to talk to her," Wesley sighed. His Slayer had a wild almost ferocious exterior but beneath the leather armour and devil-may-care bravado, she was still a child and one that had been abused horribly in her past.

It was Amy's turn to squeeze his hand. "I'm sure she'll be fine with you to look after her." The witch raised her hand to her forehead, brow furrowing as she grimaced. "My head-."

"I know," Wesley started to raise his own hand to his head only for his strength to suddenly desert him. "What's-." He tipped forward, crashing to the ground as darkness enveloped him.

* * *

Faith swallowed as she stopped outside Jonathan's room and stared at the door, this was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. Her hand raised three times then fell limply back to her side without ever reaching the door.

"Here," she started slightly at Xander's voice behind her, "let me help you with that."

She frowned at the man as he stepped towards the door. "What you doin'?"

"You like him, he likes you," the grey-haired warrior stepped around her to grab the door handle and shove the door open, "in this life, in our lives, we won't find much happiness. Best to grab it where and when you can." Even as the door opened, the Sunnydaler dared to place his hand in the small of her back and push her forward. "Visitor for you, Jon. Have fun you crazy kids."

Faith turned to glare at the young man, but by the time her shock had worn off the door had already closed behind her. Faith sighed as she turned back, then flinched at Jonathan sat at his TV. "That a Playstation?" Jonathan nodded, his gaze twitchy, constantly jumping. "Wicked cool, I always wanted one."

"I…I thought we said all we had to say."

Faith blinked. Jonathan's voice had shook as he spoke, but she hadn't figured on him getting up the nerve to speak, just listen as she told him what was what. Strange how things never went the way you wanted them to. "We both said stuff," Faith shuffled from foot to foot, "stuff we shouldn't."

"Faith," Jonathan interrupted her again. That was getting' to be wicked annoyin'. "We can't work, you're all stuff I'm not. Beautiful, strong, confident, exciting, wild. I'm just -."

"You're just sweet, kind, and patient," she placed a finger on the short man's lips, stilling his verbal outburst. Worked better than a muzzle actually. "People say we're too different, screw 'em. What do you feel?" Jonathan gulped and reddened. "Yeah," that's what I figured." Her confidence growing, Faith eased herself into Jonathan's lap. "I feel it too, the way my heart jumps when you're in the same room, the way it feels when I," she ran her thumb down the blushing boy's cheek, "touch you. How safe I feel when," Faith took Jonathan's arms and wrapped them around her, "you're holding me."

"What's best is when," Jonathan gulped. "When you're kissing me."

"Easily sorted," Faith leaned in.

The door crashed open. "Sorry to interrupt!" Xander peered through the doorway. "But we've got an emergency, "Wesley and Amy have been taken into hospital!"

"Shit!" Faith jumped up. "We'll carry this on later, Jon!"

* * *

Vocah chuckled as he watched the commotion, watched the rebels rush out from their home and into their cars. It had been pathetically simple to stroll up to the Watcher and his lady friend, and mark them with his sigil.

Foolish mortals, thinking the day's light protected them from all of creation's monsters.

With his distraction now fully in force it would be simple to complete the next stage of his plan. He waited until the three cars roared off up the street, leaving the house empty, before stalking across the road, carrying in his hands the time bomb the vampires had so thoughtfully made for him.

* * *

Faith's hackles rose as she raced into the hospital, the childhood stench of mingled detergent and antiseptic catching in the back of her throat and provoking a dozen unwanted memories. Forcing her own pain down deep, she strode over to the reception counter. "Whyndhm-Pryce, where is he?"

The middle-aged, grey-haired woman looked up at her bark, eyes widening in shock. "I beg your-."

"Simple question!" she snapped, fists slammed into the desk. God her heart was beating so loudly she could barely hear her own bellows. "Where the fuck is Wesley!"

"What!" Her head snapped around when two pairs of hands grabbed her shoulders. She glared imperiously at Gunn and Jonathan. "What the hell you doing?"

"Dragging you away before you give the old dear a heart-attack," Gunn drawled.

"Maybe you should let Xander handle this," Jonathan suggested.

"Handle what?" Faith protested. "He's my-." Her knees almost buckled under her as she realised what was happening. Her Watcher, the last connection to the nearest thing to a mom she'd ever had, and her constant companion ever since she'd been a Slayer, loyally at her side no matter what, could be dying for all she knew.

Xander swung away from the reception counter. "They're both in the psych ward. Come on."

"Anyone else wondering about the odds of them both falling ill of the same thing at the same time?" Jonathan muttered as they started down the creepily sterile corridors.

"I smell the stench of black magic," Holtz agreed in a rumble.

"Yeah, yeah," Faith nodded as she looked up at the signs directing her where to go. Place was a freakin' maze. "We'll figure that out-."

"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! STOPPPPP! STOPPP!"

"Jesus!" the hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she heard Wes and Amy's screams in the distance. She immediately picked up the pace, charging through the corridors, skipping and swerving between gurneys, porters and food trolleys with an agility and speed that left her companions in her dust.

The first room she burst into was Wes', her Watcher's eyes were ringed in black as tears fell continuously from them, the wildly-struggling Englishman kept in his shaking bed by the Velcroed restraints cuffed to his ankles and wrists. In an instant, she was shoving her way through the crowd of nurses and doctors surrounding the bed. "What are you doin'?" she grabbed the nearest doctor's arm. "Do somethin'!"

The lined-faced man winced at her grip. "Orderly, remove her."

Faith snarled as a big hand dropped on her shoulder. Mood she was in that was a big fuckin' mistake. Her elbow snapped back into the Orderly's midsection. The tall man folded with a croak, his head sliding easily into an over the shoulder headlock that she turned into a throw that sent the big man over Wes' bed and crashing into the far wall where he slid down to lie on the floor. "I asked you a question!" Faith snapped, her other hand having not moved and eyes not having shifted from the doctor during the half-second it took her to deal with the orderly. "And I ain't hearin' any answers."

The doctor's face paled as he looked from the groaning orderly, to the madly wriggling Watcher and back at her. "D…does your friend do drugs?"

"Look at him!" Faith laughed hysterically. "He's as stiff as they come, 'course he don't use drugs!"

Wesley suddenly jolted upright as far as his restraints would allow him. "HE COMES! THE TERROR OF THE AGES! HE COMES FOR US ALL!"

The doctor jumped, really it was hard to tell who freaked him out more, Wes or her. Humiliating when she thought 'bout it. The doctor turned back towards her. "W…well we've given him a CAT scan, there's no organic damage that we can see on him or his companion, but we can't seem to sedate either of them."

"He has the mark of Vocah upon him."

* * *

Vocah strode out of the rebels' house, robe flapping around him. Once he'd crossed the street and entered the park, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his detonator and flipped the switch.

Vocah chuckled as the house behind him exploded into flames, fire reaching up into the sky as the ground shook beneath him, debris erupting out of its roof to crash into near-by buildings and the surrounding area. Humankind was weak, but surprisingly inventive. With their bombs and missiles they really didn't need their help to destroy themselves, they'd manage it soon enough.

Still, why let them have all the fun?

* * *

The black man glared at the burning building as he climbed out of his dark-tinted Porsche. He noted and felt the flames shooting out of its crater-like roof, turning his face away from the heat. Fire-engines surrounded the devastated building, a swarm of fire-fighters struggling to bring the blaze under control. Even as he watched half the right wall collapsed outwards, a dusty cloud billowing up as the bricks hit the ground.

"Our contacts were there?" his female companion commented. "Looks like we're screwed."

"An accident like that, they'll have to be injured," the dark-skinned man commented as he jumped back in the car. "We'll try the nearest hospital."

* * *

Faith spun on her heel, glaring at Holtz framed in the hospital room door. "What ya talkin' 'bout Willis?" The vampire hunter stared at her then glanced meaningfully at the doctor. "Yeah," Faith strolled over to him and out of the room, noting that while the rest of the gang appeared to have disappeared into Amy's room, Jonathan, Xander, and Cordy had joined the vampire hunter in loitering in the corridor. "'Kay, who's Vocah?"

"In the year of our lord 1745, a dark evil afflicted Somerset," Holtz began, "butchering boys and girls in the foulest of ways. As these murders were done in the daylight, so we knew vampires weren't committing them. We did research on some demons and although it wasn't Vocah, I recognise his symbol from the research, the sigil on your Watcher's forearm," Faith glanced over her shoulder and at the flailing Englishman, "is his mark."

"'Kay," Faith turned back to the vampire hunter, "what's the scoop?" The out of his time demon hunter stared blankly at her, Faith sighed. "Who's Vocah?"

"Vocah is a warrior of the underworld, a creature of considerable powers." Holtz paused. "In addition to being a skilled fighter, he is also a practioner of the dark arts. It's his sigil on the Watcher, but remove Vocah from this plane and his influence will die with him."

"That's a plan I can get behind," Faith decided.

"Okay," Xander nodded. "Give me a minute and we'll get the gang together."

"No," Faith shook her head. "Amy and Wes are helpless-."

"HE COMES! AND NONE CAN STAND IN HIS PATH!"

She started at Wes' sudden scream. Man, you'd think he'd be hoarse by now. "They need protecting, the rest of you stand guard in case either Vocah or Ripper try anythin'. Danny," she glanced at the glowering 18th century gentlemen, "and me will settle Vocah's hide."


	19. Chapter 19

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (19/?)**

"Distract the nurse; I'll check the computer for recent admittances."

His companion nodded as they strode into Sunnydale General's brightly-lit reception area. "Sure."

The moment his companion had diverted the receptionist's attention, he ducked behind the desk and started typing in his target's name. "Psych ward?" his eyes widened. "I always thought he was wound tight, but no way?"

Hearing his companion returning, he grimaced and hurried out from behind the desk, grabbing the woman's arm at the elbow as she and the receptionist turned the corner heading backing into the reception area. "Come dear," he flashed the elderly office worker his most charming smile, "they just called from the office, I know where he is."

The moment they were out of ear-range, his companion turned to him and glared. "Lose the grip."

"Sorry." He released the grip even as he wondered about touchy women. "He's in the psychiatric ward."

"He is?" his companion looked bemused. "But what about her?"

"No mention," he replied. "My guess would be she's dead, and her death caused some sort of breakdown. Either that or demon attack."

"Optimistic," his companion snarked. "Like that in a man."

* * *

"Slayer," Holtz growled as he stalked beside the sultry Colonial, her eyes smouldering with fire that threatened to engulf the hushed graveyard as they made their way through it, "the information you got will more than likely lead to a trap."

"Probably," the loose-limbed beauty grunted.

"Then perhaps it would be expedient-."

"You don't wanna be here, don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out, but this prick thought he could hurt Wes, I failed one-, no-one gets away with that!"

"As you wish," Holtz shrugged. If nothing else, the girl had the virtue of loyalty, even if she allowed anger to cloud her reasoning.

Suddenly the brunette stopped. "That's him ahead?"

Holtz glared through the encroaching darkness, finally focussing on a tall, hooded figure with broad shoulders and stood by a crypt. "It looks like the drawings I have seen." He looked towards the crypt, noting its slightly ajar door. "It's a trap," he decided. "That crypt is like as not filled with vampires."

"You've got those two shotguns you grabbed before we left the house," Faith tersely replied. "You deal with 'em. I'll take Vocah out."

"Bu-." Before he had chance to comment the Slayer was streaking through the hushed graveyard, long mane flowing behind her. "Fool girl," he muttered as he turned towards the crypt.

* * *

"Hey asshole!"

Vocah had barely begun to turn in her direction when she left her feet in a chest-high dropkick that had him staggering but not falling. For her part Faith landed in a feet apart crouch, dropping into a deeper squat when her rival's scythe slashed the air above her head.

Faith straightened into a heel kick to the belly that Vocah somehow slid inside, his scythe jabbing down, its blunt end crashing into her inner knee with the sort of force that broke normal human's bones. Not Faith's though, she just took the pain through gritted teeth and stepped into her rival, her elbow cracking up and into his neck before back-flipping out of his scythe's range and spring-boarding off a gravestone to her left and into a roundhouse kick.

At least that was the theory. In fact Faith had to arch above a scythe swing then grunted in surprise when Vocah grabbed her ankle and power-threw her at the ground.

The moment her shoulders hit wet grass, she was rolling backwards and to her feet. "You hurt my Watcher mother-fucker," Faith snarled. "Last thing that did it died fast. If you're lucky and don't struggle too much, maybe you'll go the same way."

Vocah didn't answer, maybe he didn't want to, maybe he couldn't physically speak, Faith didn't care much. All she knew was the silently watching demon had hurt one of the few people she'd let herself care about and no-one did that, not without paying a damn heavy price. Anger burned through her veins as she charged the demon, anger she forced down so not to allow it to control her, anger she honed into a cold determination to not allow this shit-head to stand in her way.

Vocah sidestepped her, boot coming up in a kick to her torso she blocked on her forearm. Ignoring the bruising pain, she spun into a spin thrust kick to the demon's torso only for Vocah to lean backwards at the wait, her kick only pummelling mid-air.

Her right hand on the other hand, that grabbed the demon's left calf and yanked it from under him, knocking the monster off balance. The moment her feet touched earth Faith shot out a thrust-kick that caught Vocah high on the shoulder, spinning him like a top.

Faith leapt in close again, hammering an elbow into the side of her enemy's head before grabbing him around the waist, lifting him up, and dumping him on the ground. Her eyes widened as the demon swung up his scythe and dived into another back-flip that turned into a hand-spring that sent her somersaulting through the air, over the demon's slicing scythe and landing behind him, her foot shooting out in a back-heel kick to the small of her rival's back.

The demon stumbled to one knee. Before he could get up Faith drove her knee into the back of his knee, reached over him, grabbed the scythe that Holtz said was the only weapon known to kill Vocah, ripped it from the stunned demon's hands and quickly decapitated him.

"Oh such a pretty fighter."

* * *

Wesley gasped as a light seemed to explode just front of his eyes. Blinking his eyes clear, he looked around, surprised to find himself in what appeared to be a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses. He looked down at his arms, bemused to find they were fastened to the bed's side by velcroed restraints. "I say, what's going on here!" he demanded indignantly.

"Mr. Whyndhm-Pryce-."

"Xander!" he caught sight of the grey-streaked youth in the doorway. "Tell these dozy buggers I'm alright!" His brow furrowed as he recalled the last thing he could remember. "Oh bloody hell, where's Amy?"

"She's in the next room," the young man strode in and somehow managed to persuade the medical personnel to leave. "But she's coming around."

"Ah," Wesley heaved a relieved sigh. His eyes narrowed. "And Faith, where's she?"

Xander shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Damn it, Xander. Where's my Slayer!"

"Yeah," Wesley's heart skipped a beat as he heard an uncomfortably familiar voice, one he'd hoped to never hear again, coming from the door, "I was wondering that, real careless that Wesley, losing your Slayer. What would dearest daddy say about that?"

* * *

Faith turned towards the speaker stood about fifty feet away, her lips parting in an unconscious approving smirk. "Not bad."

The honey-blonde was a couple of inches taller than her with locks that hung down just past her shoulder and liquid blue eyes. Real curvy too, all those curves accentuated by what was practically a stripper's outfit of barely covering her ass pleated and red and black checked skirt, lycra ruffled white top that covered her boobs and nothing else, and checked tie that hung down to the babe's belly-button. Finish that off with a pair of black nylon stockings and Faith was left with the distinct impression Sunnydale vampires were both sluttier and nuttier than the average undead. "Who the hell are you?"

The girl let out a high-pitched giggle that had chills running up and down Faith's spine. "They call me Death's Bitch," Faith tensed as the vampire raised a palm, wary but not that worried considering the distance between the two of them, "but you can call me Tara or 'Please Don't Hurt Me'."

"Shit!" Faith's eyes widened as a cascade of white energy exploded out of the vampire's hand. Instinct had her diving to the right. "Aaaaaaah!" Faith screamed as a scorching pain bombarded her right side from her shoulder down to her toes, twisting and contorting her frame as sweat cascaded down her body. "Jesus," she gasped as she looked up at the approaching vampire and apparent witch.

"Jesus isn't here," the witch giggled, "just us bunnies."

"Aaaah," a groan escaped Faith as she saw Tara raise a hand and forced herself to roll not away but towards the witch, the blast of energy slicing through the air above her. Faith bounded up and caught the vampire with a left hook to the jaw that snapped her rival's head to the side. Faith followed up with a right uppercut, the punch not quite full power thanks to the pain ravaging her side but still enough to snap the demon's head back, then ducked under a retaliatory back-hand only to get a knee to the chest that turned her legs rubbery. "Owwww!" Faith grunted when the demon grabbed her by her flowing mane, any joke about only chicks pulling hair was forgotten when the crazy bitch yanked her upright and drove her fist into Faith's throat.

The air roared in her ears and tears filled her eyes as she fell like a stone, the vampire kicking a field goal with her ribs before stamping on her face. Faith wheezed and gasped for air, barely moving as another energy bolt hit her, hitting her like a lightning bolt. Blood oozed from her nose and mouth, ears pounded as she contorted and writhed helplessly, the laughing witch stood over her.

* * *

Holtz sighed as he flung open his leather duster as the crypt doors was also thrown open, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he raised the shotguns. This was a godless time, but it had such wonderful weaponry to recommend it.

The guns bucked in his hands, the first two vampires out of the crypt hitting the ground with screams as he blew away their knees. His smile grew, let them scream, as he drew a bead on the next creature through the door and shot it in the chest, once he'd finished shooting them it would be a simple job to stake what was left.

The fourth and fifth took rounds in the knees, Holtz cackled as he stopped some twenty feet away from the crypt opening and waited. His world turned to blood red as Angelus leapt off the crypt roof and at him, his guns swinging up to catch the murderous demon high in the chest and shoulders, twisting him like a spinning top and depositing him in the ground in a moaning heap.

He started towards the demon, murder of his own on his mind. And then he saw the Slayer fall, the godless witch making the young girl scream and scream. "One day Angelus!" he promised as he spun away and charged to the girl's aid, firing at her assailant as he ran.

"Aaaaah!" The female vampire screamed, his first shot shredding the honey blonde's shoulder, the second taking her in the back as she staggered away.

"God, will you fail your servant now?" Holtz cursed as his next shot missed, cracking a gravestone to the retreating demon's left, then his guns clicked empty. Stopping by the brunette's writhing form he looked down and grimaced.

The young warrior's beautiful features no longer looked like they'd been sculpted by a Michael-Angelo, more like a first year apprentice with no heart or understanding of the art. Her nose was flattened against her face, both eyes bludgeoned shut, and her jaw and left cheek hideously swollen, and even all that damage was hidden under a crimson mask, blood sticking to her face and hair as her ragged, torn clothes seemed to smoulder and her right arm hung unnaturally.

Holtz crouched and scooped up the Slayer, cradling the moaning girl in a similar manner to which he'd held Daniel Jr. and his sweet Sarah.

Holtz tried very hard not to think about that as he strode through the graveyard, ignoring the Slayer's whimpers.

* * *

"Hey Wes."

Wesley forced his eyes open at the sound of his Slayer's voice, orbs widening at her condition. The brunette bombshell was dressed in a hospital gown, her face battered and holding herself gingerly as she sat in a wheelchair pushed by Jonathan, Xander, and Holtz by her side. "Faith," he forced a smile, "I assume I have you to thank for my wakefulness."

"Holtz," the Slayer half-winced as she turned her head to look at the 18th Century warrior, "helped."

"One could not hope to fight beside a truer warrior," Holtz commented. "She does you credit."

"Thank you," Wesley felt his smile becoming yet more forced. Really how much of who Faith was, was down to him? How much had he really changed from the uptight geek he'd been at the Academy?

Faith shot him a puzzled look before glancing up and towards Xander. "We need a new base."

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "I've got an idea on that."


	20. Chapter 20

**FIC The Nightstalkers (20/22)**

"The pain!" the vampire screamed.

"Hush child," Ripper calmly stroked Tara's hair, an excited fission at the damage done to his beautiful toy. It wouldn't do for the wounds to be permanent of course, in no way did he wish for her to be impaired, but he did delight in the pain of others, it really added something to his day. "You're a vampire, you're strong. You will heal." He threw the torn top to the floor so that he could better ogle both her charms and wounds, the vampire shuddering submissively when he worked a finger into her shoulder wound. "Now why don't you get yourself a human from the pen to build your strength up?"

"Can I?" Tara queried, a playfully coy look entering her eyes.

"As if I could ever resist you," he replied with a smile. "And then when you've fed, I want you to research a spell for me."

"A spell?" Tara's eyes shone with excitement. "One interest the host and I share is learning new enchantments."

"Oh this spell's a doozy," he smirked. "It's called Nightshade."

* * *

Faith looked around the tension-filled hospital waiting room, the Nightstalkers, Holtz, and the mystery man and woman who'd just joined crammed into it, the only missing person that sleaze Parker Abrams. "So tell me again your plan?"

The man she was directing her gaze towards grimaced. "Sunday and her childes runs an abandoned frat house on the west end of UC. Sunnydale. There's her and about seven childes."

"And why haven't you dealt with these vampires before?" Wesley asked. Faith noted the Englishman kept his gaze averted from the two strangers and more weirdly her. Jesus, get your ass kicked saving a guy's life, does he say thank you? Fuck no, he gives you the cold shoulder.

Fuck him, Faith forced the hurt down deep. It had been forty-eight hours since her fight with Vocah and Tara kicking her ass, her wounds were healed and now she was lookin' forward to a rematch with Tara, and this time that bitch wouldn't catch her by surprise.

"Hitler tried to fight a war on two fronts, look what happened to him," Xander replied to Wes' question.

"A good point," Wesley conceded with a tight nod. "However we've only got a limited arsenal now."

"No we haven't," Cordelia put in. "My parents left Sunnydale years ago," Faith wondered at the bitterness in the girl's voice. "However I got daddy to sign his stables over to me, and there's a false floor in the stables where we keep our back-up equipment."

"Nice thinking," Faith praised.

Xander looked around. "Cordy, can you take Gunn, Holtz, Larry, and Owen up there and get some supplies. Meet us at the High School."

* * *

"I really hate bein' bait," Faith murmured as she slinked her way to the vampire den's front door, clad in her favourite black leather pants and two buttons open at the top and tied off at the bottom so plenty of midsection was showing black blouse. Unfortunately it made sense for the plan. The vamps, dumb sons of bitches that they were, were always gonna be more interested in helpin' a nice piece of ass rather than a guy. And it wasn't as if Harmony or Cor could handle themselves like she could. Tho' Harmony's dumb ditz act blew hers away.

Reaching the front door she let out a rattling sigh and knocked, putting her most winning smile in place and leaning forward slightly so the lucky demon who answered got an eyeful of the babies. "Yeah?" the grumpy growl turned to a full-grown leer when the door swung open and a gangly six-footer with the worse case of acne and pock-marking ever seen looked down her cleavage.

Jesus, Sunday was no Rhodes scholar if she turned this ugly mother-fucker.

Faith hid her distaste behind a gleaming smile. "Hey!" she trilled, channelling Harmony as much as possible. Hey, when tryin' to be a bimbo, aim low. "My car broke down just outside here," she shot a thumb over her shoulder while fluttering her eyelashes, "can I come in and phone for a mechanic."

"Well sure baby," the demon grinned back at her, pulling the door further open, "why don't -."

"Thanks," Faith swung her foot up and between the demon's legs, smirking viciously as the vampire doubled up, easy victim to her stake through the back. "HEY!" Faith let out a bellow as she stepped through the exploding vampire and into the grotty frat house. "It's the Avon Lady, I gotta your samples!"

The door at the hallway's far end burst open and a pair of stocky vampires charged out. Faith leapt into the air, flowing into a double drop-kick to the faces that took both demons down. Faith landed on top of the pair in a crouch, her stake jamming down into the right one's chest.

Even as he burst into dust, Faith began turning towards the other, only to be forced into a backwards at the waist sway away from a knee to the face from the now standing vampire. Powering up through her thighs, she leapt at the snarling vampire, grabbing it around the waist and pulling it to the ground. Faith grunted as its hands hammered down on her back, but ignored the pain to leap up its body to straddle its chest, drive a left into its face and the stake into its heart.

Then she was up and striding through into the lounge. The gang had already cleared it of vamps, dust and glass on the floor, the furniture over-turned. "Faith, you and Gunn come with me to check upstairs," Xander instructed. "Holtz, I want you, Wesley, and Cordy to check out the rest of the ground floor levels. Until we're sure there's no-one else left, I don't want anyone going anywhere alone."

* * *

"Boss, we got a human who wants to join up with us."

"A human?" Ripper raised an eyebrow as he idly stroked Joy-Joy's bloodied back, the Slayer's mother now vampire whimpering after his brutal beating. While they used Wanna-Bes to run errands for them during the day, it was unusual for a human to actively seek them out. "And what does he want?"

"He says he was rescued from three of us a few nights ago by the Slayer, says he knows where the Nightstalkers are making their new base," Penn reported.

"Well," he purred as he pushed Joy-Joy off his knee and to the floor, "that is interesting. Bring him in. You," he looked down at the sprawled woman, "go to Tara. Tell her I was interrupted during our 'fun-time', she'll know what to do."

"Yes Ripper." Joy-Joy nodded meekly before rising and rushing out.

The door had barely closed behind the last reminder of his wasted time as a Watcher when it opened again and Penn walked in, pushing a tall, brown-haired boy in his late teens before him. "This is Parker Abrams," Penn introduced before backing out of the room.

"Parker is it?" Ripper nodded sagely before supping at his goblet of wine. He didn't need the drink of course, he got no refreshment from it. But with his enhanced taste and smell it was the closest to heaven he'd ever more than likely reach. "And what information do you have for me?"

Parker licked his lips, Ripper's senses noting the sweat beginning to bead on the boy's forehead as he shuffled from foot to foot. "Everyone knows you're the power around here, the big cheese," the boy babbled, "well I want in. I've always wanted to be a player, power, girls, that sorta thing."

The brat wanted to make a deal? Ripper almost tore the little twit's head off right there and then. Instead he allowed his eyes to flash golden and his tone to harden to stone. "I may be immortal, but my patience isn't. I'm a vampire who likes his fun, I can have it either hunting the Slayer bitch down, or ripping the information from your screaming carcass." He rose. "Talk."

The boy flinched, curling up into himself as he shook. "S…sure," the boy nodded, "i…it was Xander's idea, there's a frat-house on the west side of UC Sunnydale, run by a vampire called Sunday."

"Ah yes," Ripper nodded. A minor player in Sunnydale, and one he'd planned to sweep up once the Nightstalkers were dealt with.

"Well they were gonna wipe her out tonight, take over her base."

"Were they indeed?" Ripper laughed softly, golden orbs shining as a plan formed. This could be most interesting. A vampire den that the new tenants didn't own, meaning the laws of invitation no longer stood. Oh the possibilities, his mouth watered with them.

Ripper glanced towards the trembling youth. "Thank you for your information and as for your payment." He blurred forward, grabbed the youth by the hair and twisted, the boy's neck audibly snapping. He chuckled as he released his grip, the boy falling limply to the ground. "The cheque's in the post."

* * *

Faith knocked on the door of the room that Wes had snagged as his own. "Hey," she spoke through the wood when Wesley failed to answer, "we haven't done any training in like days. Get your ass into gear."

After a few seconds the door opened a crack, Wesley glaring through the gap at her. "You're more than capable of training yourself."

Faith's eyes narrowed, she was gettin' real tired of gettin' the brush-off off of her Watcher. He was always babblin' on 'bout them bein' a team, where was the fuckin' team now? "Yeah?" she placed a hand on the door and shoved it open before stepping into the room and into Wes' space. "Sure I can, but you're my Watcher," she emphasised the point with a finger-jab to the Englishman's chest "supervising me is your job, dig?"

"Oh yes, I dig." The Englishman didn't flinch at her anger, rather his eyes filled with irritation. "However it's rather pointless isn't it? You don't have to obey me, the Council is gone, I have no authority over you."

"No authority?" Faith's brow furrowed in confusion. What the fuck was Wes talkin' 'bout? If he was smokin' some good shit, he really should be sharing it around. "This ain't 'bout authority, least I didn't think it was. I thought we were a team."

"We're a team," the man smiled weakly, "for as long as you deem me expedient and useful. Once I've outlasted my usefulness, doubtless you'll move on to more effective hunters."

Faith stared at the Watcher as she tried and failed to make sense of what he was saying. Finally she shrugged and went for blunt. "What the fuck are you on, Wes? Is this 'bout Holtz? 'Cause there's no way I'm dumpin' you for that grumpy bastard even if he did save my bacon!"

"Holtz?" Wesley shook his head. "No, it's Robin."

"Nottingham?" Faith shook her head as she considered the black man who'd arrived with Justine Cooper, a hunter from LA. All in all, the guy had a studly body but a personality that'd make cardboard look interesting. "What about him?"

"He's the son of a Slayer-."

"Say what!!!" Faith exclaimed before taking half a back-step. Kids weren't her, but the idea of a Slayer being a mom was wow.

"His mother got pregnant at age 14 and had him in 1970 before she was Called. She was Called in 1974, just after her eighteenth birthday, quite the freak event apparently, and died in 1977 at the hands of an unknown vampire." Wesley paused. "Because of his 'celebrity' in Watcher circles, he was allowed into the academy the same year I joined, despite being two years younger. Despite his youth, Robin always was better at the physical side of Watcher training."

Oh, Faith kinda got it now. "So what if he's better at the physical stuff?" she soothed. "I need you for your brain anyhow, and I spent three years gettin' you trained so you're just the way I want ya." Her grin was met by a blank stare. "Jesus, Wes, all the shit you said 'bout me and you bein' more than Slayer and Watcher, it's just bullshit ain't it!"

"Faith-."

"Ah, go fuck yourself!" Spinning on her heel, she stormed off.

* * *

"Faith-." Wesley shook his head as the sultry beauty stalked away. He knew he should go after her, but these days it seemed as if his motivation wasn't there. He just didn't care anymore. What was the point of caring when you were about to lose everything you cared about anyway?

"You are a fool."

Wesley sighed as Holtz stepped out of the shadows at the corridors' far end. "I don't have time-."

"One always has time for the truth," the vampire-hunter interrupted. "That girl has a rough manner, but her heart bled for you when you were entranced. She might conduct herself as a harlot, but her heart is that of a warrior. She may not say it in her woods, but she esteems you in her actions." With that, the eighteenth century man stalked off in the direction the Slayer had fled.

Wesley shook his head. "I wish I could believe that," he whispered.

* * *

Faith scowled as she tried her Tai Chi, only speeding up to roughly about five times as fast as a mediating person would do it, using it as a fighting art rather than the relaxation tool it really was. Sweat gleamed on her as she continued, breathing easily despite the long minutes she'd been training.

"Hey, your technique looks a little bit off, I guess Wes didn't teach it you right, huh?"

Faith flowed to a halt before turning towards the speaker, her eyes narrowed at the perceived insult to her Watcher. "Honey, if I gave you marks on your 'technique', you'd just about die of embarrassment."

Wood grinned, unfazed by her putdown. "I don't embarrass easily." Wood replied before turning serious. "I always wanted to meet a Slayer, see if they were as fierce as I remembered."

"Now we've had this conversation, you have," Faith began to turn back to training.

"Always wanted to be a Watcher for one too, seems that's unlikely now, unless you know someone who might wanna switch over."

Oh he just to bring it out into the open. "Yeah?" Faith turned towards the black man, flashing him an insincere but gleaming smile. "Figure you're all that do you?"

Wood shrugged and returned her smile with one of his own. "Figure I'm better than what you've got." The demon hunter's eyes travelled her body before returning to her eyes. "Yeah, I like what I see. But with me on team, it could go so much better."

"I got a Watcher," Faith replied. "And he ain't second to no-one, and I hear anyone talking shit to or 'bout him, I put them down fast and hard, you dig?"

Wood blanched at her hard tone. "I dig."

"Good, now get the fuck outta my sight, I got trainin' to do."

* * *

"So you're Jay-Don?"

"That I am," his guest nodded. "And you're like the big cheese around here?"

"The cheesiest," Ripper agreed with a smile. His guest was a powerfully built man of above average height, with combed back black hair and expensive sunglasses, a cocksure smirk seemingly stuck on his face. The man was garishly dressed, his suit obviously custom-made, but the jacket and pants' superior cut ruined by the eye-blinding yellow they were made of. "Thank you for making it here promptly."

"Yeah." The man chewed at some imaginary gum in his mouth as he nodded. "One thing you learn growing up in the mob is the chain of command. What's cookin' good lookin'?"

Jay-Don might not look like much, and had been turned barely half a century ago. But his blood-splattered past as a button-man for Bugsy Siegel made him uniquely equipped to become an efficiently murderous vampire, one whose reputation preceded him and had spread far beyond Nevada's sandy borders. "What's cookin' is a rather irritating Slayer," he replied. "She's been a thorn in my side for rather too long and I'm planning an expulsion."

"Expulsion hey, I did a few of those back in the day for Bugsy," Jay-Don fiddled with his sleeves before looking up at him, "I'm like your man for the job, boss."

"I'm glad to hear it," Giles nodded. With Jay-Don, James, and Elizabeth's addition to his forces, he had more than replaced the Masters he had lost to the Nightstalkers, and soon it would be time to strike back, and wipe them out completely. "Now be a good chap and go into the club, I'm sure you can find something to play with in our pen."

"Thanks man, you're a real gem."


	21. Chapter 21

**FIC: The Nightstalkers (21/22)**

"So this is Sunnydale?" George took a deep breath as he stopped his truck and climbed out to look around the small, peaceful town, his crossbow held under his denim jacket. "Air's better than LA's. Can see why Gunn left LA for the burbs with that babe."

"Be careful. It might look like its no big deal but," George looked over his shoulder to their group's solitary white member, "Buffy always said in her letters that this place was real bad news."

"You haven't heard from her in years right?" Rondell queried.

"Two years at least," Pike agreed, his eyes haunted.

"'Kay," George nodded, "what we do is-."

"What you do is," George blinked when a devastatingly beautiful brunette with mocking eyes appeared seemingly out of nowhere, "is tell me how you know about Summers and why you're here packing all the hardware you are?"

"And," a bespectacled man stepped out of the bushes by his truck, "I'm afraid we'll have to insist."

"We?" George's eyes widened when people seemed to appear out of the bushes on both sides of the streets, casually yet firmly encircling them.

"When you drove past here the third time we got suspicious," explained a young yet weathered-looking man. "The fact it's still light is in your favour, but you wouldn't be the first humans hired to do a vamp's dirty work. And you seem to know an awful lot about Slayers for newbies."

"I would advise you be fast with your answers," a dangerous looking man with a creepy voice commented. "Otherwise the alternatives might be serious."

"Relax guys," George felt some of the tension leave him when Gunn walked out of the shadows. "I know these dawgs. Pike, George, Rondell, good to see your ugly mugs."

* * *

"I've done it! I've done it!"

Giles paused from beating a tied by her hands to the ceiling Joy Joy with a chain to look towards an excitedly trilling Tara. "And what," he stepped towards his princess and cupped her cheek in his hands, the sobs of the Slayer's mother sweet music to his ears, "have you done my dear?"

"The spell!" Tara jumped up and down on the spot, dead eyes still managing to gleam with pride. "It works." Tara cast her gaze coyly down. "Only there's a problem."

"A problem?" Giles' heart leapt into his throat as he grabbed the witch's mane and yanked her head back. "Don't play games bitch!" His eyes flashed golden. "Tell me what you're talking about or you'll be the next to feel my chain!"

Tara whimpered. "We have to sacrifice three powerful black arts mages to power the enchantment."

"Why," Giles smirked, his good humour returning as he released his grip, "that's no problem at all. I have just the three."

* * *

Ethan hummed happily as he read the leather-bound volume before him. Ever since his turning his demon had increased his magical powers to undreamed levels, the demonic energy both focusing his power and gifting him with greater stamina, in addition to giving him ever more warped ideas. He started suddenly as he belatedly registered a presence behind.

He blanched inwardly as he turned and found himself being watched by the delectably deadly Tara. The apparently bats beauty was smiling at him and swaying from side to side almost as if being buffeted by a wind that only she could feel. "Miss McClay," Ethan nodded respectfully. He'd always had the highly honed sense of self-preservation that stopped him from irritating those higher in the pecking order than himself.

"Mr. Rayne." He was surprised when the witch giggled and ruffled his hair. "How are you my sweet?" the beauty smiled coyly. "Have you been using your magic? Experimenting with new spells?"

Off balance, Ethan looked away from the witch. In the past Ripper had always reacted with jealous violence when anyone had messed with his chits and that was before his possession had increased his volatility. "Oh shy Ethan," Tara giggled. "What are you reading?"

Ethan forced his gaze to meet his fellow demon's eyes. "Just some research, some spells I might want to try."

"Ah inventiveness," Tara nodded. "It's just a shame."

"What is-." Ethan grunted when the vampire hit him square on the jaw, the force of the blow lifting him from his seat and flinging him over the table to crash to the ground on the other side. The stars had barely begun to clear from his eyes when Tara bounded over the table and drove her heel into his face, bones shattering under the impact.

* * *

"One of Ripper's boys aren't you?" Rack commented as he stood aside from the doorway to his place of business. "Don't usually get you people in here. Not exactly birds of feather."

"Yeah," Angelus stalked through the door, a disdainful look on the demon's face.

"So," Rack shuffled nervously from foot to foot. "How can I help the great Ripper?" Rack was under no illusions, the only reason he still survived in Sunnydale was because of Ripper's sufferance, he didn't want Ripper to have any reason to be angered by him.

Angelus stopped, his brow furrowing. "There was something." Pain exploded in Rack's head when Angelus drove an elbow into the side of his head, his knees buckling under the impact. "Oh yeah." Air gusted from his body when the vampire kicked him in his ribs. "He'll take your life." His mouth opened in a desperate casting, but before he could a word Angelus' arm was looped around his neck, choking him into unconsciousness.

* * *

Doc pulled on his dressing gown, scowling slightly at the nagging knocking on his door. "Who is it?"

"Jay-Don," a deep voice replied. "I'm here for Ripper, the big cheese needs something for some magic ceremony."

"Oh," Doc hurried to the door, trepidation filling him. He didn't like being awoken late for anyone, but for Ripper, that was different. It was the way of the world that people made allowances for the powerful. "Just give me a second."

His hand shook slightly as he grasped the front door handle and pulled it open to find a flamboyantly attired man who insisted on wearing sunglasses despite the lateness of the hour. "Come in, come in," he impatiently beckoned the demon inside. "Now how can I help Ripper."

"Well," Jay-Don swept a hand through his hair as he talked, "it's like this." The vampire turned up his red jacket's collar as he talked. "Ripper needs your body." Doc's mouth had barely begun opening in shock when Jay-Don grabbed him by the front of his dressing gown and threw him into the wall, knocking him and a stack of shelves to the ground. Doc groaned as he felt the shelves being lifted off him. "This ain't nothing personal," Jay-Don commented as he flung the shelves across the room. "Just business."

"Oh," Doc ignored his bruised body to leap up at the vampire, "when you try and kill me it's entirely personal!"

Jay-Don swayed away from his attack, his knee coming up to crash into Doc's stomach. Doc wheezed as he doubled up, the vampire grabbing him by his shoulder and flinging him face first into the wall. Doc grunted as he hit the wall, managing to twist away from a kick to the back, but not from a backfist to the face that had his knees buckling. He caught the vampire with an elbow to the side of the head, but the vampire just responded with another knee to the gut that doubled him up into a front facelock that left him slumped in the man's arms.

* * *

"So this is Sunnydale?" Pike shook his head. "Can't see why you left our guys for the 'burbs."

Gunn shook his head, the house's other inhabitants having diplomatically left them alone in the lounge to have their talk. "I didn't leave you guys, but the shit goin' down here is important!"

"As important as your gang?" Rondell shook his head. "You'd leave us for a piece of ass? Man, I thought we knew you."

"That ain't right!" Gunn hotly defended, stung by the insinuation that he was disloyal. But then Rondell always was pushy, quick to mistrust someone. "You know how things have got worst over the past few years?" He continued before anyone could comment. "It's cause of this place-."

"Tell me this ain't about that Faith chick?" George shot back.

"It ain't-." He scowled at the others' snorts of derision. "Okay, it was, but this is different now, we ain't even datin' or knockin' bodies."

"Different how?" Rondell pressed.

"It turns out the guy who runs vampires in this town used to be a major player on the good side," Gunn explained. "He was this Buffy's Watcher, a decent fighter, the master of a ton of occult lore, and a bad ass mage. When he got turned, it made a hell of a vampire, a real vicious, dangerous bastard."

"So?" Rondell shook his head. "That's not our problem."

"It is, it's everyone's problem," Gunn argued. "He doesn't just run vampires in this town, he runs them throughout the world and his influence and authority is growing all the time."

"Ah bullshit," Rondell shook his head. "No vampire has that sorta power."

"This one does," Gunn insisted. "You've all noticed how organised they're getting, how they sweep people off the streets. That's cause of this cat, here!"

"Even if this is right," Pike sounded doubtful. "That just means we should be with the others, holding the vamps back from what's ours."

"No," Gunn protested. "We need to be here, dealing with -."

"You sayin' you're stayin' here?" George interrupted, his eyes hard.

"No," Gunn shook his head, "I'm sayin' this is where the fight really is."

"This ain't where the gang is," Rondell rose. "I thought you knew that."

"I know that, but I'm doing this for the gang," Gunn struggled to hold on to his temper. "For all of us."

"Well while you're doing that," Pike shook his head as he and George joined Rondell in standing, "we'll keep care of your people for you."

"Damn it!" Gunn's temper snapped as he stepped towards Pike. "Have you heard anything I said?"

"I heard you wanna stay here and not go home," Rondell spat.

Gunn took a breath and stepped back. "Fine, get out of here."

George cast him a look as he followed the others out of the room. "Be seein' you."

Gunn's stomach hollowed as he watched his friends leave. Somehow he knew he'd never see them again, but he forced a nonchalant expression. "Whatever."

* * *

Ripper watched avidly as Tara cast the spell. The witch was stood in the centre of a triangle, its points made up by the three gagged and hog-tied mages. Tara's own eyes were blindfolded as she chanted in a mixture of Persian, Latin, Greek, and Aramaic. The witch dropped a selection of herbs into the bubbling cauldron before her, then pulled out a curved, ornate-handle brass knife and sliced across her palm, hissing slightly as her blood dripped into the cauldron.

Ripper turned his head away as the basement exploded in a blinding light that caused firecrackers to ignite before his eyes. "Bloody hell," he mumbled as he blinked his eyes clear to see that Rayne had disintegrated into ash and there was nothing left of the demon mages but their twisted skeletons.

"Did it work?!" Tara tore her blindfold off and peered around, eyes filled with a maniacal hope. "Did it work? Did it work?"

Even as Tara repeated her question for a third time, Angelus strode in, a stunned expression on the Irish vampire's face. "It worked, boss. Dawn's over, its pitch black again, dark as Hades out there."

Ripper smirked. The spell would only last for twenty-four hours, but that would be more than enough for what he had planned. "Angelus, send the boys to Sunday's and wipe out the vermin."


	22. Chapter 22

**FIC The Nightstalkers (22/22)**

Jonathan yawned as he awoke, his eyes opening and widening as they fell on the naked beauty snoring beside him. "Wow," he muttered as he trailed his fingers across her flat belly, "last night really happened."

Faith's left eye opened and her curved lips tugged up into a shit-eating grin. "Last night happened three times. You rocked my world, babe."

"Really?" Jonathan's breath caught.

Faith's expression softened. "You're a natural, babe. You need a little bit of training, but soon we'll be putting the bed through the floor." Faith laughed softly at his blush. "Never lose the cuteness, babe."

"Yeah-, ummm."

Faith's laugh cut off in mid-chortle. "Shit, did you hear that?" Faith threw the bed-clothes off, giving Jonathan a brief second to watch her g-stringed ass' delightful wriggle. Faith looked over her shoulder, an irritated look on her face as she reached for her shirt. "No time for perving, there's trouble on its way here."

* * *

Faith scowled as she exited the room she'd spent the night with Jonathan, her good mood rapidly dissipating after a very successful night indeed. Johnny needed her guidance, but with a little bit of gentle encouragement he'd turned out to be a wicked screw, and so freakin' tender and respectful.

But now, some demon or other was attacking their place, ruining her happiness. And that pissed her off.

Faith blinked as a pair of snarling vampires appeared at the end of the landing. How was that possible, it should have turned light over an hour ago? Shaking the question off, she charged forward, Jonathan hurrying behind.

* * *

Xander ducked under the demon's right cross, kicking at its legs, knocking it stumbling forward into his stake, the vampire bursting into dust with an anguished scream. "Owww!" Xander hissed as another vampire yanked hold of his hair, pulling his head back to feed.

And then a baseball-sized fireball flew past his head and exploded into the demon's face, incinerating him. Even as Xander nodded his thanks, another vampire leapt through the doorway and onto Michael, knocking him down.

"No!" Xander started forward to help his friend only for another vampire leap in front of him swinging lefts and rights that had Xander bobbing and weaving to avoid his assault. The moment his assailant left a gap, Xander slammed his stake open, and leapt through his ash to help Michael.

"No," he whispered, shoulders slumping at his friend's neck-torn corpse, shock robbing him of his reactions long enough for the vampire to bound up and catch him with an uppercut. "Ooooh!" Xander's head snapped to the side, blood flying from his mouth to splatter the wall as he stumbled backwards.

Xander's right arm swung down, slapping a follow-up hook away even as the demon launched a kick at him, Xander hooked the kick and pulled its leg tight to his body while leg-sweeping at the demon's grounded leg. Xander savoured the look of surprise on the vampire's face as it fell backwards, his stake driving down and through its chest. "This one's for you Michael," he muttered as it exploded into dust.

* * *

Holtz flung himself from his bed, hand reaching for his crossbow on the bedside cabinet. His eyes widened as the door burst open and a pair of blood-suckers charged in, his finger pulling on his already loaded crossbow's trigger.

The bolt whistled out of the weapon and into the demon's chest, the vampire exploding in dust. Realising he didn't have time to reload before the other vampire got to him, he swung the crossbow around and into the side of the vampire's face, knocking it onto the bed. A savage grin stretching his face, Holtz dropped the crossbow, picked up a bolt, and drove it down.

His grin turned to a gasp when the vampire grabbed his wrist and held it steady while kicking him in the side of his gut. Holtz swallowed the pain as he drove his head down and into the demon's face, shattering its nose even as it hooked a right into his face. Holtz caught the demon with a follow-up backhand to its mouth even as he brought his knee up into the vampire's crotch. The vampire mewed in pain, his eyes flashing yellow even as his grip loosened on Holtz's wrist, allowing him to drive his stake into his chest.

Holtz over-balanced the moment the vampire exploded into dust, slumping on the bed.

* * *

Wesley pulled himself up and out of bed at the sound of a disturbance outside, brow furrowing. "What is it?"

Wesley glanced over his shoulder, a smile tugging slightly at his lips at the sight of Amy sat on his bed, a blanket wrapped around her to protect her modesty. "I'm not sure," he replied as he lifted up his automatic and stepped towards the door, "I'll just be a-."

The door crashed open, Wesley only just leaping back in time to avoid being hit by it, his automatic swinging up instinctively, trigger finger pulling as he put round after round into the faces of the three vampires swarming in. Each vampire fell, and was hurriedly staked as they clawed mindlessly at their injured faces.

* * *

Faith snarled as she blocked a right hook on her left forearm while leg-sweeping the demon's feet out from under him, Jonathan snaking around the back of her to ram his stake in. Faith's stomach flipped as she caught sight of a corpse at the bottom of the stairs, the distraction enough to allow a vampire to lunge in with an overhand right that smashed into her forehead.

"Fuck." Faith stumbled back a step, stars exploding before her eyes. Only instinct kept her on her feet and able to duck under the demon's follow-up hook then leap into a jumping thrust- kick to the face that knocked the demon back down the stairs.

The vampire hit the floor ass-first and started right back up only to catch a stake to the back from Wood.

"Who's the corpse?" Jonathan queried, her honey's voice shaky.

Faith grimaced. "Looks like Owen to me, hon." Faith spun around at the sound of footsteps behind them only to relax when she recognised her Watcher, Amy, and Holtz. "We've just been attacked," she rather unnecessarily commented. "Must have been dozens of the bastards."

The others spilt through into the hallway, shock written on their faces. "Bloody hell," Wes wriggled past her to stride down. "I see Michael and Percy aren't here?" he paused and swallowed before continuing. "Are they?"

"Dead," Xander nodded, his eyes fixed on Owen's corpse. "Harmony too."

Faith cast a look around. "So, me, Wes, Jonathan, Holtz, Xander, Cor, Amy, Wood, Justine, Gunn, and Scott are all that's left." Faith paused. "We should go on the attack."

Xander blanched and shook his head. "We can't do that, we just lost -."

"That's precisely why we should attack," Wesley interrupted. "The advantage of surprise will be on our side."

"Or we could wait here," Holtz growled, "wait until they come back to try again."

Xander sighed and nodded. "Let's get equipped."

* * *

Ripper paced the Bronze's floor, his tongue clicking against his fangs. What remained of his vampire minions had trooped back in just a few minutes ago, their numbers severely diminished by the Nightstalkers.

Ripper glanced towards his Masters – Penn, Angelus, Jay-Don, James and Elizabeth. He hadn't wanted to put them into play, doing so would only mean risking his power base. However, they needed to strike while Nightshade held and before the Nightstalkers had chance to re-group. His mouth opened.

CRASH!

His head snapped to the front entrance to see a tinted-windowed SUV had crashed through the door, taking out a trio of vampires en-route to smashing into and through the bar counter, only stopping when it crashed into the drinks cabinet beyond. Even as he started to move, several of the rebels came charging through the gap, their crossbows dealing with his shocked minions. "Get them!"

And then the glass sun-roof exploded inwards, the Slayer, her Watcher, and Holtz rappelling through to crash down on the upper floor.

* * *

Xander blocked a left on his forearm before ducking into a crab under the demon's follow-up right then straightened and rammed his stake into the vampire's chest before it had chance to pull his guard back. "No," Xander's legs turned rubbery when a very familiar person stepped through the minion's dust. "It can't be," he shook his head.

"But it is," Joyce whispered as she swayed from side to side and put her hand to his cheek, flesh pimpling at her chill touch.

Chill touch. Xander's eyes widened as instinct took over, driving his stake forward and down at the woman's heart. "Oh no!" Joyce grabbed his wrist and twisted, the weapon falling from his grip. He croaked back a shout when his wrist broke, his other fist thundering into the vampire's jaw. "Naughty boy!" Joyce lunged forward, her fangs ripping into his throat, blood gushing out to flow into her mouth.

Xander's fists thudded uselessly against the vampire's face and torso, the last thing his greying vision saw was a sobbing Cordelia looming up behind the vampire, her stake driving into the demon's back.

And then he was falling and falling.

* * *

Holtz snarled as he saw his enemy and lunged forward, blocking lefts and rights on his forearms, the pain reverberating through his arms and shoulders rendered unimportant next to his revenge. Angelus' head snapped back when he caught him with a right to the face, Holtz ducking under a retaliatory left before lunging up with a stake that Angelus slapped away before hitting him with a right hook to the face.

Blood welled up in his mouth as he lunged at his adversary, knees almost buckling when Angelus caught him with a knee to the gut. The vampire laughed softly before grabbing him by his collar and yanking him upright. "Aaaaah!" The vampire's laugh turned to a pained scream when he threw a bottle of holy water into the demon's face.

"This is for my family," Holtz rammed his stake into the bellowing vampire's heart. Suddenly all the blows he'd endured hit home, his body feeling like one bruise. He gasped as a hand grabbed his chin from behind. The vampire twisted his head to the side before he could react, neck snapping like a twig.

His bladder and bowels voided as his legs buckled under him, the vampire's fangs tearing into his neck not hurting in the slightest. Holtz smiled dreamily as the vampire fed, growing weaker and weaker, a vision of his family flickering before him. Finally they'd be re-united.

* * *

"No!" Amy screamed as she saw Wesley go down under one vampire too many, his own stake shoved through his throat.

Pain replaced grief when Tara hit her with a blast of energy. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fired back, her white energy bolt contrasting wildly with Tara's blood red bolt. The vampire witch screamed, its actual words lost in the blood pounding in her ears.

Amy bit down on her bottom lip as her body began to throb and ache, both from the pain of Tara's attack and the effort of her enchantment. Still she endured, ignoring the smoke wafting off her shaking body as she poured more and more power into her assault. Amy shook and trembled as her body ached, muscles contracting wildly then Tara threw her head back, black smoke billowing from her open mouth, and then the demon exploded into dust.

Amy gasped and wheezed, her heart thumping uncontrollably, the spell and Tara's attack having pushed her further than she'd ever been forced to go before. Pain tore at her left arm, legs buckling under as her heart burst and she fell forward, dead before she hit the ground.

* * *

Gunn grunted as Jay-Don's fist clubbed into his forehead, snapping his head to the side and stumbling back. He lunged back, stake shooting in under his adversary's defences, only for his rival to knock the weapon down, and catch him with a left to the mouth.

Gunn felt salty blood fill his mouth as he ducked another right haymaker, his knee coming up at the demon's belly. He grunted when the demon hooked his left leg to its body. He back-handed the vampire across the face but the demon ignored the punch to sweep his grounded leg from under him.

Gunn crashed to the ground, head bouncing off the floor. Seeing the demon's heel stomping down at his feet, he rolled away from it, grabbed and twisted. Jay-Don let out a shocked cry as he stumbled backwards, giving Gunn time to roll onto his knees. "Ooooof!" he grunted as a foot crashed into his gut, doubling him up into a front facelock. His fist crashed into the demon's thigh, but then the monster cinched in tight and his vision darkened, lungs heaving.

* * *

"Looks like it's just the two of us," Faith drawled, her casualness concealing the pain that Wes and Jonathan's deaths caused her. All around lay the corpses of those she'd be-friended, varying amounts of dust surrounding their valiant bodies. Once this was all over with, she'd go on one huge, self-destructive orgy of sex, booze, and violence, then end it all when the hurt got too much. But first she was gonna kill the fucker who'd caused her all this hurt.

"Oh not quite," Ripper smirked as Jay-Don and Penn hurried up to flank him.

Faith swallowed the gnawing ball of fear in the pit of her belly. Three Masters and a whole bunch of minions, she was beyond screwed. A snarl bubbled up in her lips as she dived forward, snatching a hold of Penn behind the head and bringing his face down into a pair of fast knees to the face before snapping off a kick to Jay-Don's chest.

"Owwww!" She gasped when the garishly-dressed vampire grabbed her foot and twisted, before leaping into the air and swinging her free foot in the vampire's face while snapping an elbow back and into the nose of Ripper.

All three vampires fell back as she landed in a crouch, their faces battered and expressions wary. Another vampire jumped at her from her left, only to land on Faith's stake, his shriek echoing in her ear as Jay-Don leapt back into the attack. Faith grunted as she took a left to the forehead, sidestepped her adversary, and thrust her stake at the demon's chest.

"Bitch!" Jay-Don scowled as he stuck his arm up, her stake going through his forearm as he back-handed her across the face. Faith grunted as she staggered backwards, ducking under a right cross as blood bubbled up in her mouth, her left foot shooting backwards in a heel kick to the knee of a demon sneaking up behind her.

Faith's right arm came up, blocking a left hook from Penn even as she swung her left foot up and into the demon's crotch. Penn greyed as her kick connected, legs buckling under him as he slumped to the side, his breath coming in a wheezing heave.

Seeing Ripper lunging at her from the right, fangs glinting and eyes burning yellow, Faith dropped face-first to the ground. Ripper let out a grunt as he flew over her and into Jay-Don, the two Masters falling into a table. The moment she hit the floor Faith was moving, first into a side-roll to the left to avoid a minion's stomp, then into a forward roll that ended with her springing up and driving a stake into the nearest vamp's chest while ducking under a right to the face.

Even as the demon exploded into dust she was side-thrust kicking another minion in the knee, allowing it to fall onto her hastily-swung stake. Blood flew out of her mouth when Penn caught her with a right, the blow sending her staggering towards a risen Jay-Don, her mane parting with the draught from a ducked under roundhouses kick. Faith leapt up and hooked the out-stretched leg against her body before Jay-Don could pull his leg back, stake slamming down at the vampire's chest only for Jay-Don to grab it an inch from its target. "Not so fast-, owww!" the vampire gasped when she drove her head into its mouth, the momentary shock enough to get her stake rammed home.

A fist or knee crashed into her lower back but she spun away from it, flowing into a back-fist that knocked her rival away and from there she leapt into a thrust-kick to the chest that flung its recipient through the upper-floor's railing. "Shit!" Faith stumbled forward when Penn swept at her legs upon her arrival, her stagger carrying her into the path of a clothesline to the chest.

Faith grunted as wind gusted from her but used the blow's momentum to carry her into a backwards somersault out of the mob of vampires. Upon landing she grabbed at the nearest stool and flung it into the nearest vampire's face, his features exploding inward when the stool's metal leg crashed into his face. Even as the vampire stumbled backwards more took its place, Faith managed reach into her denim jacket, yank out a glass bottle filled with holy water and fling it at Ripper.

"Damn!" she cursed when the demon ducked under her attack, allowing two of his minions to take the skin-scalding hit for him. And then she was back in the middle of the melee again, ducking and blocking as the blows came reigning in from every direction.

Too late she sensed Penn behind her, the former Puritan grabbing her in a triangle choke. Faith's eyes widened as the vampire started pulling tight. Her mind racing Faith threw her legs forward and into the torso of one of the vampires advancing on her, her heels resting on the demon's chest, then pushed off, allowing the momentum to coil her up into a ball that twisted loose of Penn's grip, and sent her flying over the demon, and into a back-flip that ended with her landing behind him.

She thrust at the demon's back only for him to twist away and deliver a back-fist to her forehead that burst open a cut above her left eye. "Shit," Faith just about managed to twist away from a thrust to the gut, her stake driving down and into Penn's leg.

"Ahha!" the vampire let out a scream, eyes bulging with a combination of pain and shock as he clawed at his wound, unmindful of her other stake flying up and into his chest.

Even as Penn exploded into dust, the other vampires swarmed in, kicking, punching, and stomping at her. She managed to get a few, three, maybe four, but eventually the blows she'd taken accumulated with the weariness of a long battle, and she slipped in something, either a spilt drink or her own blood, there was an irony, and fell to one knee. A knee smashed into her face, shattering her cheekbone and jaw, before she could get back up to her feet, and a foot crashed into her stomach, breaking a rib and doubling her up as she wheezed and gagged for air. Then a hand grabbed her by her mane and drove her face down into the floor. And then the vampires were on her, kicking and stomping her into a curled up ball of agony.

"I think she's nicely tenderised," Ripper's mocking words rang in her ears as he stamped on her left hand, shattering three fingers, her stake falling from her hand as he dragged her up into a knelt position.

"Fine," Faith looked up at the vampire, defiance gleaming together with pain in her eyes, her face a bloody mess, "end it." Ripper just smiled down at her as he walked around her. "End it!" Her defiance turned to a screaming plea. " END IT!"

"Oh I will," Faith gasped when the demon's heel slammed into her chest, followed by a rib-cracking stomp to her stomach that brought tears to her eyes. "Only not in the way you expect." His heel thudded down on her forehead, pain erupting in her skull..

* * *

"Hello dear. What will it be today? The blow-torch? Knives? Whips? Something else?" He smiled at the brunette's inarticulate whimper as he approached, eyeing the cage's crouched beauty, the chained dollar leashed to its ceiling holding her in place. She hadn't whimpered at first. No, for the first few weeks she'd cursed and threatened, then after the first month she'd started to bargain and beg, now, after three months all she did was cry. There was little if anything of a mind left. He didn't even have to break anything anymore, when he did it was more of a whim than a necessity.

Yes, the last Slayer was indeed a work of art. Giles' eyes roamed hungrily around the trembling beauty's naked body, marvelling at not only her alluring curves but also skin's creamy-white perfection. When he'd finished playing last night, she'd been bruised, welted, bloodied, and burnt from head to toe, his toys having spent hours brutalising his pet, but Slayer Healing was a marvel. Oh the entertainment her suffering had brought him, the joy her tears had caused.

She'd cost him so much, he strolled around the cage, his eyes never leaving his prize. His entire command staff had been lost in that ferocious battle. He reached between the cage's bars, and roughly groped the beauty, the whimpering brunette unable to move thanks to the chain fastened to her neck. At first he'd been so enraged, the first week he'd done nothing but beat her, pouring on more and more pain each day, seeing just how much she could take before her inevitable death.

But then inspiration had struck, a whispering voice that belonged more to the intellect of his cool and calculating host rather than his vicious demon. He had in his possession not only a winsome lovely that he could painstakingly re-make as his dutiful pet, but also the True Slayer. With the Council decimated and its remains in disarray, he had in his possession the only weapon that could threaten him, and killing her would only result in another warrior being Called. But if he kept her tethered and beaten, she could entertain him for years as he consolidated his power, and then he could either Turn or kill her.

"Yes," his fingers still pinching and twisting at her chest, he crouched down and peered into the cage, staring into the Slayer's frightened eyes, "you are deliciously dirty and you caused me so much trouble. But you were a prize worth all the trouble you caused me," he purred, delighting at the silent tears streaking down the Slayer's high cheeks, "and what fun we've had." He sighed. "But I realise I've been selfish keeping you for myself-." The brunette's eyes snapped to the door, a choked sob escaping her luscious lips as her enhanced hearing picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. Ripper chuckled, delighted by her terror at what was to come. "Yes, I've invited some allies here, they'd like to meet and join me in playing with The Last Slayer."

**The End**


End file.
